Touching and Touched
by HopefulR
Summary: #10 in the Reconnecting series. As thousands gather for a memorial honoring the bombing victims, Lorian & Karyn’s engagement takes a surprising turn; Trip's parents arrive; and for Archer one door closes, but another one opens. Rated T; ONLY Ch 14 rated M
1. Family Matters

**...Touching and Touched  
#10 in the Reconnecting Series****  
**By HopefulR

Rating: PG-13 for now, for language and sensual imagery; the rating will heat up later  
Genre: Romance, general, ensemble, AU  
Archive: Please ask me first.  
Disclaimer: _Star Trek:_ _Enterprise_ is the property of CBS/Paramount. All original material herein is the property of its author.  
Spoilers: Through "Kir'Shara," with a few references to storylines in "Daedalus" and "Demons/Terra Prime."  
Summary: Sequel to my story "Never and Always..." As thousands gather at Starfleet for the memorial honoring those lost in the embassy bombing on Vulcan, Lorian and Karyn's engagement takes a surprising turn; Trip's parents arrive; and for Archer, one door closes, but another one opens.

A/N: If you have read any of my **Strange New Worlds** entries, you may experience a bit of deja vu while reading this story. I used some scenes here and there as source material for a few of those stories.

Thanks to my lovely betas, slj91 and Ludjin.

* * *

Chapter 1: _Family Matters_

The news spread quickly on whispered wings through the catwalks of engineering: The Family was back together. And today, Papa and Uncle Soval were with them.

Not that anyone would actually refer openly to Captain Archer or Vulcan's venerable ambassador to Earth by those names and expect to escape the Wrath Of Tucker afterward. But as soon as Crewman Cook had overheard the boss talking to the captain a few days ago about their "extended family," and those two nicknames had slipped out, Cook knew he'd struck gossip gold. He'd immediately passed the info on to the rest of his mates—engineering crew only, this was _their_ Family—for gleeful, clandestine contemplation up in the catwalks.

An hour after _Enterprise_ made orbit around Earth, Commander Tucker was in the middle of recalibrating a glitchy EPS monitoring system when he was paid a surprise visit by the recently-commissioned Commander Lorian and Lieutenant Archer, who had hopped a shuttle from _Columbia_. The engineering crew was happy enough to see that T'Pol had accompanied the pair, thus completing the Family tableau...but when Captain Archer and Ambassador Soval arrived with them—well, that was icing. Within moments, the crew quietly began to gather, finding excuses to be on the catwalks, the better to sneak peeks down at the entire Extended Family.

The reports came in quick succession, the play-by-play passed along by those who were close enough to hear the six conversing near Tucker's workstation. After months of problems with her engines, _Columbia_ was almost ready for launch, thanks to her dedicated and hard-working engineering crew (according to Lorian), or to Lorian's Tuckeresque miracle-working (according to Captain Hernandez). Lorian had been promoted to First Officer, while Karyn's prowess as Chief Helm Officer had sent the tech guys scurrying back to their manuals to revise the navigational capabilities of the NX-class to a markedly higher level. And to the delight of _Enterprise's_ entire Engineering crew—especially Rostov, who won the pool—Lorian and Karyn were engaged to be married.

The Family was especially endearing to watch today, what with Tucker and Archer fussing like mother hens over the affianced Lorian and Karyn, while T'Pol and Soval looked on with patient indulgence.

"You should hear the nicknames they've given him," Karyn was saying. "'The Enigmatic Commander Lorian,' that's a popular one. And my personal favorite is 'The Vulcan Who Smiles'."

Lorian was genuinely surprised. "Who calls me these...nicknames?"

"Um...most everybody," Karyn replied demurely, as Archer and Trip broke up laughing. "You really need to get out of engineering more."

"Has the crew given you a special name?" Lorian asked her curiously.

"Not up to now." Karyn giggled. "But ever since they found out we're engaged, I've been hearing references to 'Mrs. Lorian.'"

Lorian was quite taken aback, but he found the moniker unexpectedly appealing.

As he and Karyn exchanged shy smiles, Trip nudged Archer. "I don't think they're ever gonna stop fallin' in love," he murmured softly. Archer nodded in agreement.

"How did the crew learn of your engagement?" Soval inquired. "Was there an announcement of some sort...?"

"In a way," Karyn replied. "Captain Hernandez was looking into arranging joint quarters for us."

"However, there are no joint quarters on the officers' deck," Lorian continued. "Since our two cabins are adjoining, she concluded that the simplest solution lay in knocking out the bulkhead in between."

"Ingenious," Archer commented, with a sidelong glance at Trip.

"Might be somethin' for you to keep in mind, Cap'n," Trip hinted. "For married-type folks on your ship."

Karyn picked up the tale. "When the captain sent the work order to Maintenance, she listed the reason for the work as— 'Officers' Impending Marriage'."

"Therefore allowing the ship's rumor mill to disseminate the information," T'Pol observed. "Quite astute."

"So...any particulars decided yet?" Archer casually inquired. "Date, location...?"

Karyn laughed. "I was waiting for you to get nosy."

"Been, what, ten whole minutes since you got here?" Trip chuckled. "I'd say he's shown great restraint."

"I'm the patriarch!" Archer protested. "I have a right to ask."

"We haven't had much time to think about it," Karyn told him. "Captain Hernandez has kept us too busy getting _Columbia_ ready to launch."

"Nevertheless, there is one detail upon which we have agreed," Lorian said.

Karyn smiled hopefully at her great-grandfather. "Papa...would you marry us? Here on _Enterprise_?"

Archer was caught so completely by surprise, he didn't know what to say. Then he felt the lump forming in his throat, and he couldn't speak at all. He took Karyn's hand, swallowing hard...

...and then he heard a soft chorus of dreamy "awwwws" drifting down from the heavens. Angels?

He and the others looked up. There were nearly two dozen crewmen gazing down at them, from every catwalk, every stairway, every corner. It must have been the entire engineering shift, plus a few off-duty crew as well...all with matching shmoopy looks on their faces. Hess and Rostov, who normally shooed the crew away before they were spotted spying on The Family, were front row center, wearing the most hopelessly romantic expressions of all.

Trip started rumbling. "What do y'all think you're—"

"C'mon, Captain, you have to!" Rostov called down.

"It would be perfect," Hess added. What the hell—they were all busted anyway.

The rest of the crew, coming to the same conclusion as Hess, threw caution to the winds and began chiming in. "Please, Captain... You can't pass this up... It'd be so beautiful... You gotta, sir... Would you?... "

The Family stared at the crowd of hopeful faces in amazement. Soval observed the scene with fascination. Finally Archer held up a hand, and the pleas subsided.

"I will not knuckle under to the peanut gallery," the captain announced with authority. "Knowing Commander Tucker, chances are you'll all be on report till your tours of duty end, anyway."

Trip shrugged and shook his head, hiding a smile. "Aw, hell. Can't blame 'em." He sternly eyed the ring of faces. "Don't go making a habit of it, though."

Archer returned his attention to Karyn and Lorian. "I would be honored to marry you."

The crew broke into spontaneous applause. Karyn blushed, and Lorian appeared quite nonplussed by the crew's attentions, which made them look all the more adorable.

Trip gave the onlookers one last moment to gawk before he glowered meaningfully at Hess. She grabbed Rostov, and the two of them scattered the crew like a flock of pigeons...but not before they craned their necks for a last view of The Family bidding farewell to Papa and Uncle Soval.

Karyn hugged Archer close. "We'll have a lot more time tomorrow, but it's still hard, saying good-bye."

"We'll just have to be sure to make the most of the time we have," Archer smiled. He shook Lorian's hand warmly. "Congratulations again, Lorian. On everything you've accomplished while we've been away."

"Thank you, Captain." Lorian nodded to Soval. "And to both you and the ambassador, for helping to foment such an extraordinary enlightenment on Vulcan."

"I hope the same can be accomplished here on Earth," Soval said gravely. "Humans, like the Vulcans before them, also have fears and prejudices to overcome before they find enlightenment."

"Starfleet's expecting the xenophobes to show up in droves at the memorial tomorrow," Archer sighed. "With all the press that will be there, it's a perfect platform to try and stir up trouble. We're off to talk security arrangements now." He and Soval nodded their farewells. "See you tomorrow."

After they were gone, Karyn turned to Trip and T'Pol. "We have to get going, too."

"Technically, we are still on duty," Lorian acknowledged. "Captain Hernandez told us to regard our trip here as a 'long lunch break'."

Trip chuckled. "I like her style." As they exchanged farewell hugs and kisses, he suddenly stopped. "Fair warning—I asked my folks to come visit for a few days. I'm picking them up tomorrow, after the memorial." He ran a nervous hand through his hair. "I figured it was time to tell them...uh...everything."

"You haven't..." Karyn put a hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp. Or a giggle, she wasn't sure which. "Oh my."

Trip chewed his lip. "See, with T'Pol's situation up in the air, I didn't think it was...and explaining Lorian would mean..." He hung his head. "Aw, hell. I don't know how I'm gonna do this."

With a perfect poker face, T'Pol suggested, "Tell them the simple version."

Trip did nothing more than raise an eyebrow dryly in her direction...but through the bond, T'Pol felt a burst of appreciative laughter from him.

"Did Admiral Gardner—" Karyn drew them all into a quiet corner, away from the curious eyes and ears of their fan club. In a low voice, she continued, "What did he say about you two getting married?"

Trip rolled his eyes. "First we have to get grilled by a Starfleet board of inquiry about our objectivity. And of course the Vulcan Social Ministry has to get around to declaring T'Pol legally unmarried. Between the lot of 'em, it could be forever."

Karyn and Lorian's faces fell, in tandem. T'Pol continued placidly, "But now that we are already married, we regard the matter with far more equanimity than before."

Lorian's eyes widened. Karyn's jaw dropped. "Married?!" she squeaked.

Trip was thoroughly enjoying _not_ being the surprised one for a change. "As of two days ago," he announced with a flourish, "T'Pol and I are officially bonded."

"Which, in the time of Surak, was essentially the definition of marriage," T'Pol added.

"So until the higher-ups are finished messing around with regulations and red tape and they give us the go-ahead for the legal ceremony...being bondmates will do," Trip grinned.

Karyn squealed softly in delight, hugging Trip and giving T'Pol a light kiss on the cheek, a human gesture of affection that T'Pol was warming to. Lorian reacted with a deep satisfaction that was quieter, though no less joyful. "I had not expected you to bond so soon."

"Hold on," Trip said. "You _expected_ it?"

Lorian nodded. "In the Expanse, my parents bonded as well, but it did not begin to manifest itself until some months after they married."

Trip and T'Pol exchanged glances. "Our bond kinda snuck up on us," Trip confessed.

"It began to form without our knowledge," T'Pol explained. "Several months ago."

"And it's all _your_ fault," Trip accused Lorian good-naturedly.

Lorian was confused. "My...?"

"After you told us about Koss being a temporary glitch in the system, we went and blurted out our feelings to each other," Trip replied, smiling at T'Pol. "We think that's when it started."

Karyn smiled dreamily. "How romantic."

"I gladly accept the blame for your togetherness," Lorian offered. "But what transpired two days ago?"

Trip absently rubbed his still-sore shoulder. "We had to hurry up the bond-thingy a little. We were making surprise appearances in each other's heads, and it was getting awfully distracting. And inconvenient." He sighed ruefully. "And dangerous."

"Trip nearly immolated himself in an unshielded warp-plasma energy stream during one of our spontaneous mind-links," T'Pol elaborated matter-of-factly.

Karyn winced. "Oh my God."

"I don't understand," Lorian said. "How can the formation of a bond be quickened?"

Trip smiled broadly. "Mind-meld. That's the way they did bonds in the old days, according to Soval. None of this waiting-for-a-year stuff that Vulcans do now."

Karyn was enthralled. "You two mind-melded with Soval?"

Trip shook his head, still grinning. "Nope." He looked expectantly at his wife.

"I performed the bonding meld," T'Pol stated, with self-assured calm.

Lorian stared at her. "You have learned to meld?" His expression took on an almost childlike wonder. "What is it like?"

"Quite disconcerting, at first," T'Pol admitted. "It requires a lowering of mental and emotional shields, and a willingness to be open, even vulnerable, to another's thoughts. Nevertheless, I have found my experiences of the past several days to be most profound...both illuminating and emotionally powerful. Admittedly, I have melded with people I trust..." She glanced at Trip. "Melding will likely be far more challenging a task with a stranger. I will benefit from more study and practice."

Lorian turned to Trip. "And for you, Father?"

"I'm no veteran," Trip replied. "I've been in exactly one bonding meld." He smiled again, this time a soft, gentle smile for T'Pol alone. "But it was incredible. Like being in two bodies at once...hearing each other's thoughts, sharing memories and feelings..."

The two of them were gazing at each other now, with a deep understanding that seemed to transcend the limitations of finite spaces and corporeal bodies. They were _connected_. It took Karyn's breath away. She glanced at Lorian to see his reaction, and was struck by the expression of yearning on his face as he watched his parents.

"And your bond?" he asked softly.

T'Pol could feel the bond resonating between herself and Trip, steady and reassuring. "We are a constant presence in each other's minds...always together, even when we are physically separated."

"Can you communicate through it?" Karyn asked.

"Indirectly," T'Pol replied. "In times of great stress, or heightened emotion, the bond intensifies, sometimes to the point of actual thought projection."

"Mostly so far, it's been this sweet, warm..." Trip hesitated, trying to find the right words. "It's like holding hands all the time, or exchanging an _ozh'esta_...but in our minds. Like sharing hearts and souls." He shrugged and smiled. "Words don't do a decent job of describing it at all."

The ghost of a faint, wistful smile played at the corners of Lorian's mouth as he looked at his parents. "Your faces convey far more than words ever could, Father."

Karyn didn't know why, but her heart ached for Lorian at that moment. She took his hand, holding it tightly. Her touch seemed to bring him out of his pensive reverie. He blinked, glancing around, as if remembering where he was. Then he nodded to his parents, with that same sad little smile. "We must go." Without another word, he led Karyn out.

-tbc-


	2. Revelation

**...Touching and Touched**

Rating: PG-13  
Disclaimer: _Star Trek:_ _Enterprise_ is the property of CBS/Paramount. All original material herein is the property of its author.

A/N: I originally wrote two versions of this chapter: one PG-13, which follows here, and the other a longer NC-17 piece that deals in more depth (hoo boy) with the _pon farr_. For interested readers who are 18 or older, I have posted the NC-17 chapter at my website. Here is the link to follow, once you remove the spaces and add the symbols:

http: / / www (dot) geocities. com /hopeful (underscore) romantic (at) prodigy. net /dragons.html

* * *

Chapter 2: _Revelation_

Lorian was unusually quiet on their shuttle hop back to _Columbia_.

Karyn made small talk, seeing if she could draw him out. "Papa warned me that we're liable to have a long engagement—Starfleet HQ finally approved a mission back to the Expanse."

Lorian nodded faintly, without looking her way.

"The plan is to set up a base on the Skagaran world to establish regular communication with Earth, and begin the process of returning any of the humans who want to repatriate," Karyn continued, even though she realized she was probably talking to herself. "But what Papa really wants to do is find the Illyrians he stranded when he took their warp coil for _Enterprise_, and make it up to them somehow."

Lorian didn't even react this time, his mind as far away as the stars he was absently observing.

Karyn cocked her eyebrow at her fiancé. "But it looks as though Starfleet has decided to summarily execute Papa for his crime instead, and be done with it."

Lorian blinked, slowly turning to her. "I beg your pardon...?"

At least he was looking at her. That was progress. "Where have you been?" she asked with a smile.

"I apologize." He hesitated. "I was thinking about—" The console beeped, signaling they had entered their final approach vector for _Columbia_. The majestic starship was still cradled protectively in Spacedock, as final preparations were made for her debut.

Karyn guided the shuttlepod toward _Columbia's_ launch bay as Lorian contacted the ship. "_Columbia_, this is Shuttlepod One, requesting permission to come aboard."

"Permission granted," came Yarrow's reply. "You are cleared for Launch Bay One."

Lorian glanced up from the comm panel to find Karyn regarding him expectantly, still waiting for the answer to her question. "Tonight," he finally said. "After our duty shifts."

Karyn nodded. _Brooding Vulcans_. She wished there was a handbook or something.

* * *

Lorian was already in their quarters when Karyn arrived following her duty shift. He was at the viewport, idly watching the supply shuttles as they came and went, their deliveries nudging _Columbia_ ever closer to readiness for launch.

She came up behind him, slipping her arms around his waist. "Hi."

She felt his hands slide over hers, but he said nothing. She waited, simply holding him, snuggled against his back.

"I've been thinking," he said at last. "About my parents, and their bond."

"Jealous?" she teased gently.

"I am glad to see them so fulfilled," he answered. "But I must admit, I envy them." He sounded wistful as he gazed out at the stars. "To be as close as two people can be...to share hearts and souls..."

"Is that what you want for us?" she asked softly. "To be bonded?"

He turned to face her, still in her embrace, and she was struck by the open hopefulness on his face. He seemed on the verge of saying something...but then he lowered his eyes. "Bonding would require one of us to possess telepathic ability. So it is not to be."

Karyn looked oddly at him. "Lorian..._you're_ telepathic."

He was puzzled for a moment, until he realized how she must have misunderstood. "If you are referring to those times when I have sensed my mother's emotional distress, that was her telepathy at work. I have never exhibited such talent of my own."

Now it was Karyn's turn to be confused. Didn't he know...? "Yes, you have. With me."

His brow knitted faintly. "You must be mistaken."

It was slowly dawning on her that he _didn't_ know. Had she imagined it? "But...when Trip and T'Pol told us they were engaged, you felt such relief that you were fighting back tears. I knew it without even looking at you, because I felt your tears in my own eyes."

Lorian stared at her. It was true—he had been overwhelmed with emotion after hearing the news that his parents were finally together. But how could Karyn have sensed what he was feeling?

"And the night T'Les died," Karyn continued, "when you felt your mother's grief...I felt your anguish. That's why I came to you."

Lorian was even more taken aback. "I had thought you were responding to some sort of intuition...another of those myriad facets of your gender that I cannot begin to fathom."

Karyn allowed herself a tiny smile. "Actually, I thought I was dreaming that you were in trouble, crying for help. I woke up...but I still felt it, in my head, in my heart...as clearly as if you were calling out to me. I felt you _needing_ me. So I came."

They regarded each other uncertainly, too mystified by this new aspect of their relationship to yet appreciate its wonder.

Lorian wracked his brain, trying to make sense of it. "Have you felt my emotions in years past? On _Enterprise_?"

"No...not on _Enterprise_..." But Karyn was remembering another night, now. And the pieces were beginning to fall into place for her.

Lorian was shaking his head, completely at a loss. "I don't understand. In all my life, I have never touched another mind. Why now? Why _you_? Telepathy doesn't simply switch itself on after half a lifetime. If I had inherited this ability from my mother, then surely—"

"—it would have come upon you long before now," Karyn finished.

Lorian saw her studying him thoughtfully. He suspected she knew something he did not. "I've said those words before, about the _pon farr_," he said slowly. "Are you suggesting that my telepathy was somehow...triggered?"

"I don't know what I'm suggesting," Karyn replied. "But I do know that the first time I ever sensed what you were feeling...was that night."

Lorian felt a chill go through him. _Please, let it have been before...before I unleashed the monster on her_. He found he couldn't look Karyn in the eye any longer. "When?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Karyn's reply was soft, calm. "As soon as you let go...when the blood fever took over."

Lorian felt suddenly, terribly exposed. He tried to pull away from her.

Karyn kept her arms around him, not letting him escape. She knew he needed to hear this, even if he didn't realize it yet.

"At first, I felt need," she said, in the same quiet tone. "An awful, aching hunger, screaming to be satisfied." She remembered the emotion hitting her with the force of a shockwave, the moment Lorian stopped holding back...intense, primal, wildly overpowering. "And underneath it...fear. Fear of what was happening to you. Fear for me."

Lorian remembered the terror as the fever seized control of his body, burning away thought and reason and restraint in a white-hot flash, leaving only a savage desire for _her_. He'd been so frightened of hurting her, even as his body was greedily taking possession of hers. He squeezed his eyes shut, filled with shame.

He felt Karyn's hand cupping his face, gently lifting his chin. "Lorian."

Hesitantly, he looked at her, and found her gazing tenderly at him. "Then I felt your love," she said. "All around me, through me... like an embrace, but on the _inside_. It was so pure and selfless, I felt as though I was looking into your soul. I never dreamed..." She smiled. "It's like your father said today. Words just aren't good enough." But her expression spoke eloquently of her own devotion.

Lorian was touched beyond measure by her revelation. He leaned into her hand, kissing her palm, his feelings for her choking him into silence.

"After your fever broke, the emotions faded away," she continued. "I was so happy, knowing that I hadn't lost you, that you would be safe. But I remember feeling sad too, because I thought I might never be able to sense you like that again."

He was silent for a time. "I have long been troubled by the thought that you gave yourself to a man who was not me, that night," he confessed slowly. "And that all I gave you in return was a part of myself that I had no wish for you to see...selfish, lustful, uncontrolled." His pensive expression gave way to a tentative smile of wonder. "But now, to know that I gave you a part of myself that I wish for you to have, and no other...it pleases me."

"Maybe your telepathy is tied to me, the same way the _pon farr_ is," Karyn ventured. "Maybe it won't even work with anyone else but me. You might never be able to mind-meld." She smiled hopefully. "But I think we'd be able to bond."

The hope in his eyes mirrored her own. "If it is possible...would you wish it? To be bonded with me?"

Her face lit with a glow of adoration that was breathtaking. "More than anything, love."

He felt himself smiling with uncharacteristic giddiness now, but he could not help it. He slid his arms around her waist, pulling her close. "Then we will discuss the matter with Ambassador Soval tomorrow, after the memorial."

She cupped his face in her hands. "Careful, Commander. Your dimples are showing."

"They are yours alone to admire, as I promised, my wife-to-be." And with that, he kissed her soundly.

-tbc-


	3. The Ridiculous and the Sublime

**...Touching and Touched**

Disclaimer: _Star Trek:_ _Enterprise_ is the property of CBS/Paramount. All original material herein is the property of its author.

* * *

Chapter 3: _The Ridiculous and the Sublime_

No one was expecting the _noise_.

It hit Archer and his delegation from _Enterprise_ as they filed out of their transport shuttle...an angry swell outside the Starfleet compound, kept at bay by gates and guards, but allowed to sully the pristine morning air because of the right of free speech, however misguided.

Starfleet had carefully choreographed the memorial for the victims of the bombing of Earth's embassy on Vulcan. It was to be a respectful, sedate affair, honoring those killed while pointedly avoiding casting aspersions on the Vulcan race, or any aliens who had a presence on Earth. But late last night, the carefully guarded identities of the perpetrators—the _Vulcan_ perpetrators—had somehow been leaked to the hordes of press that had gathered to cover the memorial. By morning, the news had spread throughout the system, threatening to overshadow the ceremony itself.

The demonstrators—doubtless responsible for the leak—took full advantage of the attention. In the absence of weapons, they armed themselves with dogma and denial, and an apparently inexhaustible capacity for shouting. They surrounded the Starfleet complex, standing ten deep in spots, making it impossible for guests to proceed inside without running a gauntlet of slogans, placards, and xenophobic outrage. The heavy presence of Starfleet security prevented any physical contact between guests and protesters, but the mere act of passing through the front gates became an exercise in fortitude.

Many of the dignitaries attending the memorial were able to avoid contact with the demonstrators by arriving on shuttles that landed inside the compound. The Vulcan delegation, however, chose to meet the conflict directly, traveling overland from the embassy and entering on foot through the front gates. Their arrival was met by a firestorm of hurled invectives, accusations, and death threats from the rabble. As the phalanx of Starfleet guards held back the sea of fury, Ambassador Soval solemnly led his group past the frenzied, frightening mob without flinching. The protesters' demands followed the Vulcans as they disappeared inside: Leave Starfleet! Leave Earth! Leave the system! _Leave!_

* * *

Inside Memorial Hall, there was, at last, respect. For those lost, and among those who had come to honor them.

The hall was filled to capacity with dozens of dignitaries and hundreds of Starfleet personnel, including contingents from _Enterprise_ and _Columbia_. Among the attendees was the entire former crew of Lorian's _Enterprise_, reunited for the first time since several dozen of them had taken off to travel their new world, or meet family members—a privilege reluctantly granted, with numerous restrictions, by security-conscious Starfleet HQ following Admiral Forrest's insistence. They sat together now, a mixture of civilian dress and Starfleet blue, adults and children, humans and aliens, joined by their former captain and first officer, now Commander Lorian and Lieutenant Archer of the starship _Columbia_. Admiral Forrest had welcomed them all with open arms to this world they helped to save. He gave them new futures here, and now they were here to honor him.

Archer sat at the head of the fifty-strong _Enterprise_ group, flanked by Trip and T'Pol, and gazed down at the forty-three portraits on display below the podium, one for each of the victims of the bombing. He was happy to see that they had used Forrest's official Starfleet portrait. Eschewing the solemn mien that so many higher-ups adopted for their pictures, Forrest wore a thoughtful little smile that always struck Archer as a promise of wonders to come.

Even now, Archer still found it hard to believe that Forrest was gone. He had _always_ been there, a sturdy, reliable presence, since Archer could remember. He'd been there to pick up the pieces after Dad died, and again after Mom died. He was there to mentor Archer through Starfleet, to praise him and chew him out and share drinks with him at the 602 Club on way too many late nights. Forrest had seen him off when _Enterprise_ launched, run interference for him with the VHC, been his sounding board, confessor, friend, surrogate father. It had been easy to imagine that he would always be there...

Archer had thought his grief would be almost crippling, once he allowed himself to let down his guard after the mission to Vulcan was over and _Enterprise_ was en route home. But he hadn't counted on the lingering wisdom of Surak, or the entirely unexpected assistance of Soval. The ambassador and the captain found themselves drawn together by their mutual loss during the journey home, sharing their memories of their friend Forrest over meals, or after discussions of the Kir'Shara with T'Pol and Trip. The memories made the hurt more bearable for Archer. Even the daily meditation lessons became a source of companionship that he hadn't even realized he so desperately needed.

He and Soval had come a long way since that first awkward handshake in February.

Trip had started referring to them all as an "extended family," and Archer found the idea oddly satisfying. He'd refused for years to dwell on his solitary existence, because he knew deep down that if he thought about it, he would realize what he was missing and be all the more forlorn. But everything had changed with Karyn, who had added extraordinary depth to his life simply by embracing him as her family. Through her, he had gained Lorian. Now his two best friends were sort of married, and sort of his family, too, because of Lorian. And Soval, long T'Pol's mentor, now seemed to have taken on that same role for all of them—Lorian at Starfleet, Trip during the Vulcan mission, Archer himself on the journey home.

It felt good to be part of a family again. Especially now, with the heightened awareness that came with sudden loss.

In the weeks since the bombing, Archer had noticed an increased closeness among the crew as well...an extra attentiveness to friendships and working relationships. A consciousness of opportunities not to be missed, lest they be suddenly stolen away.

Looking down his row of Starfleet blue, Archer caught the eye of Erika Hernandez and smiled at her. She smiled briefly back, before her attention was pulled away by one of her officers. Archer watched her thoughtfully. She was certainly an opportunity not to be missed—he saw that with crystal clarity now.

* * *

The first speaker to take the podium was Ambassador Shaw, the longtime embassy official who had accompanied the dead back from Vulcan. Archer thought the man looked, if anything, more drawn and haggard than he had during the journey home...but now, there was a new element to his demeanor. He looked damned angry.

As Abner Shaw eyed the cluster of cameras trained on him, beaming his image to the far reaches of the system, he held up a padd. "I had this eulogy all written out," he began. "One of those typical, reverential jobs you always hear at funerals. The press already has a copy. But it's not what I want to say anymore." He tossed the padd aside and gripped the podium, white-knuckled.

Archer exchanged glances with Trip and T'Pol. T'Pol raised an eyebrow, and Trip silently mouthed, "Stress?" True, Shaw had suffered a tremendous loss with the deaths of his colleagues, and had only begun to open up and talk about them during the trip home from Vulcan. Perhaps the stress had finally outdone him.

"I've been a diplomat all my life," Shaw went on. "I've always chosen my words with care. But today I must speak for those who cannot speak." He gestured below the podium, to the forty-three portraits on display. "For these forty-three, who now have something more important to do than correct the outlandish misstatements of those clowns outside."

_Holy shit_. Archer's mouth dropped open. This man was a diplomat! But not for long, if the warning glare that Admiral Gardner was giving him was any indication.

As if sensing the thunderclouds gathering, Shaw turned toward Gardner, seated on the dais behind him. Looked him right in the eye, in fact. "This may very well be my last speech," he continued, with a touch of wryness, "so I'll make it pithy." He pointed toward the exit doors of Memorial Hall. "Those demonstrators out there are saying that we—everyone on Earth—want Vulcans to leave, that we want no part of them, because Vulcans were responsible for the bombing. They say the victims shouldn't have been on Vulcan in the first place, they were there out of obligation, they were under orders."

Shaw's fiery gaze swept over the assemblage. "I don't presume to speak for any of you. But unlike those fools outside, I _can_ speak for the dead, because I knew them, every one of them. I worked with them, ate with them, laughed with them. And let me tell you, they loved their work. They had great respect for Vulcan and its people. Nine of the Vulcans who died were part of our staff—they were our people. The other three worked with us regularly. The point is, we worked _together_—trusting each other, cooperating with each other, sharing ideas, sharing cultures."

Shaw pointed to one of the Vulcan portraits, a striking man who looked to have been in the prime of his life. "Starna went clubbing in the human quarter with his co-workers one night and ate the finger food _with his fingers_. Earned the respect of the whole place." He gestured to another portrait—a young human man in his twenties. "Dmetriev learned Vulcan so he could converse with his Vulcan colleagues in their own tongue." Two more pictures, two women—a fresh-faced young human, and an older, gray-haired Vulcan. "Nitika studied _The Teachings of Surak_ with T'Kaal to better understand the Vulcan way." Another pair of portraits, a Vulcan man and a human woman. "Keval learned ballroom dancing from Thornton to better understand human romance."

The audience was listening in rapt silence to Shaw's heartfelt words. Several of the camera operators were now focused on the portraits. Archer was filled with admiration for Abner Shaw. If this was his professional swan song, he could go out knowing he'd done right by his fallen colleagues.

Shaw swallowed hard as a more poignant emotion began to replace his anger. He gazed down at the dozens of portraits as he continued more quietly. "These forty-three were not hypocrites, like their killers. They didn't have their heads in the sand, like those people shouting outside. These men and women worked hard to find common ground between wildly divergent cultures, and stand on it, and learn. They believed in what they were doing. They died for it..." He stopped again, this time unashamedly blinking back tears. After regaining his composure, he looked out at the crowd and smiled, his anger spent, replaced by a kind of peace. "That's the truth, ladies and gentlemen. I wanted you to know it."

He returned to his seat on the dais, next to Gardner. The admiral's face was carefully composed now, unreadable. In a low voice only Gardner could hear, Shaw said calmly, "My resignation will be on your desk by the end of the day."

"Don't bother," Gardner replied, in the same low tone. "I'm not sacking you."

It was all Shaw could do not to gape at Gardner. After what he just said, in front of God and man and the entire system? "Why not?"

"Because you said what the rest of us wish we could say, but can't. And ironically, you're probably the only one who's going to get away with it." Gardner met the ambassador's eyes, adding pointedly, "_If_ you graciously decline further comment from this point on."

"Yes, sir," Shaw said. He shut his eyes as he fought back a sudden wave of overwhelming grief.

He felt Gardner's hand on his shoulder. "Just hang on a little while longer, Abner," Gardner said softly.

Shaw felt a light touch on his other shoulder, and looked up to see Ambassador Soval standing before him, on his way to the podium. The empathy in the old Vulcan's eyes was unmistakable. Shaw managed a faint smile. Soval nodded before proceeding on.

The longtime Vulcan ambassador to Earth surveyed the packed hall for a long moment, his eyes picking out numerous acquaintances, several friends...and five individuals in particular whom he was, against all logic, beginning to think of as family. Then his gaze dropped to the portraits arrayed below him, and to one portrait in particular.

He spoke, his voice quiet but clear in the silent hall. "Vulcan grieves with you for these forty-three, as I grieve for my friend, Maxwell Forrest. I shared with him his greatest goal, and his fondest wish—to bring humans and Vulcans together as equal allies. He was fortunate enough to see that his goal was already a reality in microcosm, in an embassy on Vulcan, and on a starship patrolling the quadrant." Soval glanced up at Trip and T'Pol. She nodded respectfully, while Trip smiled at him. As Soval continued, his gaze shifted to Lorian. "He saw a promising future for our two worlds." Lorian inclined his head in acknowledgment.

Soval contemplated Forrest's portrait once more. "Admiral Forrest died in service to this goal, by giving his life to save the life of a Vulcan. He saved my life." There was a rustle of reaction from the crowd; Soval's admission was not common knowledge. As his gaze lingered on his friend's portrait, the observing cameras caught the moment, capturing the respect and sadness in the ambassador's eyes and beaming it out to the billions watching throughout the system.

Soval addressed the assemblage again. "When I first came here over three decades ago, I was quite intolerant." He thought back to the day he first arrived, newly widowed, distressingly pessimistic. The High Command had thought him ideal for a posting on Earth. "I fully expected to find a species in thrall to its emotions, wildly illogical, still unprepared to venture into space without guidance. But gradually I was enlightened by Admiral Forrest, the first human with whom I worked closely, and by the personnel in his charge. I found humans to be emotional, and illogical, at times...but also determined, resourceful, and fueled in equal measure by stubbornness and boundless curiosity. I saw an admirable nobility of purpose in your quest to reach for the stars."

He looked down at the portraits again, somberly. "The forty-three we grieve today were victims of intolerance, but they did not die needlessly. The attention focused on my world by their sacrifice has led to a planetwide enlightenment. The prejudices and secrecy that have shadowed my people for decades are falling away, and the ideals of truth and tolerance are again being embraced." Soval looked up, meeting Captain Archer's eyes. The captain tapped his temple with a little smile. "The new Vulcan High Council sees the logic in Admiral Forrest's goal," Soval continued, "and we have already begun taking steps to make it a reality."

Soval's gaze swept over the entire hall. "These forty-three are our teachers. In life, they demonstrated fellowship and trust. In death, they exposed injustice. Now, as we remember and honor them, they offer us continued enlightenment. We must not forget what they already knew. Vulcans are not superior; humans are not unprepared. We are merely different. Let us rejoice in our differences. They can be our strength, if we work together. We have much to offer each other as equals."

As Soval took his seat again, Archer found himself wishing he could do the less-than-dignified thing and applaud the hell out of Soval. And Shaw. Then, somewhere in the back, someone _did_ start clapping. Others joined in almost immediately—undoubtedly of the same mind as Archer—and soon the entire hall was ringing with applause. Soval accepted the kudos with his usual equanimity, while Shaw laughed softly to himself, even as he swiped at his wet eyes. Gardner just looked relieved.

-tbc-


	4. Mood Swings

**...Touching and Touched**

Disclaimer: _Star Trek:_ _Enterprise_ is the property of CBS/Paramount. All original material herein is the property of its author.

* * *

Chapter 4: _Mood Swings_

Following the official Starfleet memorial, several individual services were held that morning in various venues around the city. Per his final instructions, Starfleet honored Maxwell Forrest by throwing a party. Guests were encouraged to dress colorfully, eat hearty, laugh well, and tell plenty of stories. Forrest's wish was to be remembered with happiness.

When Archer pushed open the huge doors of Starfleet's Great Hall with Soval and T'Pol, though, the situation looked grim. The room was already packed with scores of people, but quiet as a tomb. Most of the guests had changed into colorful attire, though a phalanx of Starfleet admirals, standing in a knot near the buffet tables, had stubbornly remained in their dress uniforms. But it looked as if no one was conversing, not even softly.

Soval arched an eyebrow. "Apparently the finer points of the admiral's last request have escaped this assemblage."

"Too bad Trip isn't here yet," Archer remarked. "With his Southern charm, I'd bet he would be able to perk up this crowd."

"He and his parents are due to arrive in approximately thirty-four minutes," T'Pol offered.

Archer winced. "Too long..."

Behind them, the doors swung open again, and a happy tidal wave of _E²_ crew members poured into the Great Hall, cheerfully talking a blue streak. As they beheld the pervasively bleak mood, they slowed to a stop, their pleasant chatter trailing off into silence.

Dr. Kelsey hmmphed. "You'd think somebody died." Her voice was soft, but unmistakably miffed. She gathered the rest of the crew around her. "There may still be time to salvage this pooper of a party. Go forth, now, and show these poor blind souls the true meaning of the phrase 'celebrating a life.' For the admiral."

"For the admiral," a hundred voices intoned in respectful reply. They spread into the hall, threading their way through the somber faces, as Archer, T'Pol, and Soval watched with curious interest from the sidelines.

* * *

Erin Yancy led her brood straight to the buffet tables. The girls had been angels throughout the long memorial service, and they were probably starving by now. "Anything you want, in moderation," she announced. With squeals of delight, Sibella and Bonnie scampered off to get plates, as Erin surveyed the food. When she saw the big container of macaroni, she laughed out loud.

A nearby pair of guests—more like mourners, Erin thought to herself—lobbed a warning frown her way. Erin shrugged apologetically. _So sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt your morose mood_. But as she took a proffered plate from Sibella and reached for the macaroni, she began chuckling again.

Another guest was watching, a young woman in a rainbow of color who seemed to be attempting the positive attitude requested by the admiral's last missive. She had a faint, hopeful smile on her face...the look of someone who was wrung out from grieving, and needed to find out how to move on. "Excuse me," she began, "but...you look like you're enjoying a nice memory."

"Yes," Erin replied with a smile. "Our first lunch with the admiral."

The young woman drew closer. Seeing her opportunity, Erin continued. "It was our first day here, and the admiral was treating us all to lunch in the cafeteria. There were a lot of us—families, about a dozen children. The kids, well, they'd been cooped up for a while, so they started a food fight."

The young woman broke into an astonished smile. "A food fight...here? At Starfleet?"

A few other people were listening now, Erin noticed. "Sure enough. Admiral Forrest stepped in to put a stop to it. As soon as he entered the battle zone, Sibella, my oldest, nailed him with a big glob of macaroni."

The woman gasped, but she couldn't suppress a little laugh. "I'll bet you were upset."

"Actually, my husband and I were pretty excited—Sibella'd been having trouble with her aim," Erin confessed. "We were trying to applaud her improved ability, without really supporting her choice of target."

"What did the admiral do?"

A crowd of about a dozen had gathered by now. Erin began acting out her story as she went on. "He kind of froze...macaroni sliiiiding down the front of that clean, sharp-looking uniform of his..." She heard a few soft chuckles from her audience. Finally, they were starting to loosen up. "We all froze, too—we'd only met the admiral the day before. We didn't know how he'd react. He turned his back on everybody without saying a word. We thought that was it, that we'd get tossed off the premises."

Erin paused for dramatic effect. She was pleased to see her listeners lean forward, waiting for her next word to fall. "Finally he turned back—and we saw that he was holding a big ol' serving spoon of pasta salad. Which he lobbed right at Sibella."

The crowd burst out laughing. "Did he get her?" someone asked.

"Hell, yes!" Erin declared. "Dead center. The admiral also had very good aim." Another laugh. Erin smiled back at them all. They looked as if they hadn't laughed for weeks. "Of course, that set off an out-and-out war. All of us grown-ups jumped out of the way, but Admiral Forrest stayed smack in the middle of it, playing referee—and also Really Big Convenient Target."

Many of the people gathered around her were laughing continuously now. "From that moment on, the kids thought Admiral Forrest was the coolest old guy they'd ever met," Erin grinned. "Whenever they saw him, they'd follow him around like puppies." Erin's smile softened with a touch of sadness. "The little ones still ask about him." She held out her hand to the young woman. "I'm Erin."

"Natasha." The two women shook hands. "Thank you for the story. It _is_ a wonderful memory."

"So how did you know the admiral?" Erin asked.

"I work in the outer offices at HQ." Natasha smiled at her own memory. "One day they sent me over to temp for him..."

* * *

Within minutes, _E²_'s people had lightened the room's heavy mood, simply by offering smiles, sharing laughter, and telling anecdotes. Now the other guests were contributing their own stories, filling the room with cheerful remembrance.

"Remarkable," Soval murmured.

"I believe these people missed their calling as morale officers," Archer agreed.

"They are a product of a century in the Expanse," T'Pol observed. "A generational ship confined to a war zone."

"Indeed." Lorian and Karyn joined the trio. "Under those circumstances," he continued, "our crew could become pessimistic, or positive. We opted for the latter."

"We all learned at a young age to celebrate life rather than dwell on loss," Karyn smiled.

Archer noticed that the pair was still wearing their Starfleet uniforms. "You didn't get a chance to change?"

"We haven't stopped long enough—there are so many people to visit," Karyn enthused. "The McCormacks had a million pictures to show around—they've been sightseeing for months. And Maggie and Tom Hayes went to a big family gathering. Lieutenant Sato arranged the whole thing. Lots of hugging and crying. Major Hayes' mom practically adopted them."

That made Archer smile. "Hopefully it's a comfort to her, knowing that a part of her son lives on in them."

Lorian turned to Soval. "Ambassador, may we have a few minutes of your time?"

Soval nodded. "Of course."

"If you'll excuse us, Mother, Captain..." Lorian and Karyn moved away with the ambassador.

Archer watched them curiously. "What's that all about?"

T'Pol arched an eyebrow at him. "Captain. Desist."

"I'm just wondering," Archer said innocently. T'Pol's eyebrow climbed even higher. Archer threw up his hands in defeat. "Okay, okay." He escaped to the buffet tables.

* * *

Soval led Lorian and Karyn to a quiet corner of the Great Hall. "How may I assist you?"

"Trip and T'Pol told us yesterday about their bond," Karyn began.

Lorian continued. "They explained that a mating bond may be established through a mind-meld."

Soval nodded. "My wife and I bonded in this manner when we married."

Lorian exchanged a warm glance with his fiancée. "Karyn and I wish to become bonded as well. We request your assistance."

The commander's request was hardly surprising, given the pair's obvious affection for one another. Soval even sensed something deeper, though he could not determine precisely what it was. He found it curious that he had not picked up on it before. It was not a nascent bond, exactly, but something...else.

"I would be honored to perform the bonding meld," he replied. "If it is possible. A bond between a Vulcan and a human is unusual enough, but you are half-Vulcan. The bonding requires sufficient telepathic ability to create and maintain the psychic link." He paused. "In fact, I assumed you had no such ability. There is no mention of it in either the command or medical logs from your _Enterprise_."

Lorian hesitated. "I did not, previously. My telepathy began to manifest itself only recently."

Soval was intrigued. "Indeed? Explain."

Lorian looked slightly uncomfortable. "Karyn is able to sense my emotions. In times of stress."

Soval turned to the lieutenant in surprise. "She alone? Have you determined the reason?"

"We believe so." Lorian shifted self-consciously. "It has to do with...with my hybrid physiological makeup."

"Specify."

Lorian paused again. Soval noted that the commander was avoiding eye contact. He appeared...embarrassed. The lieutenant, taking note of her fiancé's difficulty, spoke for him. "I triggered his telepathy."

Soval raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"Actually, we think the _pon farr_ triggered it," Karyn corrected herself. Beside her, Lorian proceeded to blush a deep green-bronze. "But I triggered the _pon farr_, so I guess I'm just splitting hairs," Karyn concluded.

Soval regarded her with confusion. "You...triggered...Lorian's last _pon farr_?"

"First," Karyn amended.

Soval stared at Lorian. "You entered _pon farr_ for the first time at your age?"

Lorian wished fervently that the floor would open up and swallow him, but no such merciful rescue from this latest mortification was forthcoming. And Soval was waiting for an explanation. "Apparently in my case," he said in a rush, "the Vulcan mating drive lay dormant until it was awakened by various human-based external physical stimuli, in addition to a strong emotional attachment, all of which converged under unique conditions, in the form of..."

"Me," finished Karyn, with a sheepish little smile.

Soval was fascinated. "It would appear then, that you have formed an empathic link as a result of your...unique union."

The two of them stole a shy glance at one another as they nodded. "We were hoping that it might be enough to enable us to bond," Karyn said.

The old Vulcan considered it. "It is difficult for me to say with certainty, not having encountered these circumstances before." The connection he sensed between them was unmistakable, but required closer study. "If I may be permitted a brief mind-touch, I would be able to examine the link further."

Another glance passed between the young couple, followed by another mutual nod. Soval wondered if they realized how attuned they were to one another already. "By all means, Ambassador," Lorian said.

Soval led the pair into an empty banquet room off the Great Hall, where they could be afforded a modicum of privacy. "I need not establish a full meld," he explained. "You will feel a subtle presence, no more."

He touched his fingers lightly to Lorian's face, automatically finding the _katra_ points. He was struck immediately by the complex amalgam of Vulcan and human elements intertwining seamlessly within the younger man's mind to form a balanced whole. "My mind to your mind," he intoned softly. "My thoughts to your thoughts..."

In spite of his unwavering trust of Soval, Lorian felt a trace of apprehension. Almost as soon as he was aware of his unease, he felt Karyn taking his hand, holding it reassuringly. He relaxed...and then he felt a wisp of another consciousness in his mind, feather-light, like a butterfly floating through a meadow.

Soval found the link he had sensed. He marveled at its construction...a singularly complex web of Vulcan and human, instinct and determination, fear and desire...and binding it all together, steadfast, selfless love. Even now, he could feel Karyn's essence through it. She was indeed the catalytic force behind it. Remarkable. It was not a bond, but it could easily be rendered so.

Soval withdrew his hand, breaking the mind-touch. Lorian felt the faint other-presence fade away. The process had taken only moments. He and Karyn looked questioningly at the ambassador.

"The link is as unique as the circumstances of its creation," Soval told them. "It is quiet, but steady and strong. I see no impediment to a successful bonding. We can perform the ceremony tonight, if you wish."

Their faces brightened in tandem. "Yes," they said, almost at the same moment. Then Karyn ducked her head shyly as Lorian blushed again.

They were indeed an agreeable match. "Tonight, then," Soval nodded.

* * *

Archer stood off to one side, his food forgotten, as he watched Lorian and Karyn deep in conversation with Soval. What were they up to...? He wished he could read lips. When the three disappeared into a side banquet room, his curiosity was piqued even further.

The big doors of the Great Hall swung open and Admiral Gardner entered, scanning the room. When he spotted Archer, he headed over. "Nice party," Archer smiled.

Gardner surveyed the crowd, noticing Lorian's people cradling the other guests along. "I hear I have the _E²_ bunch to thank for that."

"If you could stick their attitude in a bottle and sell it, you'd be a millionaire."

Gardner turned his attention to Archer. "Jon...about the mission back to the Expanse..."

Archer could tell from the hesitation in Gardner's voice that something was wrong. "What?"

"We're giving it to _Columbia_," Gardner said. "Word came down from HQ half an hour ago."

Archer was stunned. He'd campaigned for months to return to the Skagaran world, and find the Illyrians he'd stranded when he stole their warp coil. "Why?"

"Emory Erickson contacted Starfleet. He's working on a new long-distance transporter beam—sub-quantum teleportation, he calls it. He needs passage out to the Barrens, and a lot of power to conduct his experiments. He needs a starship. He asked for you specifically. HQ is salivating for a working prototype of this new transporter, and naturally they want to keep him happy. So _Columbia_ gets the Expanse, and _Enterprise_ gets Emory."

Archer felt as though he'd been kicked in the gut. "I don't understand. _Enterprise_ made first contact with the Skagarans. We're responsible..._I'm_ responsible...for wronging the Illyrians. It's our duty to go back—to make amends. To finish what we started."

"I know, Jon," Gardner said, with genuine sympathy. "And you'll get your chance. But not this time."

Archer turned away in frustration. "Think about it," Gardner went on. "You're the _last_ person the Illyrians will want to see. Not to mention the least effective choice to open up a diplomatic dialogue with their people. It's better for Hernandez to go first and smooth things over. Then, when you follow, they might actually listen to your apology, rather than simply toss you the hell off their planet."

Archer sighed. "Good cop, bad cop. Is that it?"

"Something like that."

Archer stewed in silence. Gardner continued, his voice reasonable. "And you know there'll be a lot of trips back and forth to the Skagaran world. It's going to take a lot of planning and a lot of travel time to get six thousand displaced humans back home, if they all want to come."

Archer knew Gardner was making sense, but it didn't make him feel any better. He'd been counting on the return to the Expanse—hoping to find the peace that still eluded him, and to set right one of the terrible wrongs he had been forced to commit last year in the name of saving the universe. "I don't suppose there's any use in my appealing this."

"No. The decision's final." Gardner put a hand on Archer's shoulder. "I know this stinks, Jon. I'm sorry."

The admiral moved off. Archer stayed where he was, giving himself a moment to tuck away his crushing disappointment. There was no place for it here; it would wait until later, when he was alone. He tried to focus on Emory, and how good it would be to see him and Danica again.

"It wasn't my idea."

He looked up. Erika Hernandez was standing a couple of meters away, looking faintly apologetic. "The Expanse," she continued. "Honestly, I was expecting a local assignment. Patrolling around the system or something. I'm sorry."

Jon managed a wry smile. "No, you're not."

She had the grace to look guilty, at least. "No, I'm not. I mean, I _am_, for _Enterprise_. But for my ship, my people..." She broke into a smile. "I'm thrilled."

"Good." Jon thought Erika looked particularly attractive at this moment...resplendent in her uniform, her eyes shining, her normal laid-back calm replaced by an undercurrent of excitement that gave her a striking inner glow.

At the same time, though, he sensed something different between them. Or rather, the absence of something between them. Erika was uncharacteristically keeping her distance, both physically and emotionally. She was talking to him, but she wasn't _with_ him. Her focus was somewhere else.

"What are you doing over the next couple of days?" she asked. "Because I _really_ need to spend a lot of time with you."

He blinked. _Okay, maybe my instincts are off._ It had been an emotional morning. He pushed his uncertainty aside. "How can I turn down a request like that?" Playfully, he added, "What'd you have in mind?"

"The Expanse, of course!" she declared. "I want to pick your brain."

His heart sank. But he didn't let the ache reach his face. "Of course."

"I'll go over all your logs and reports again, but I'm sure you have information you didn't put in a report," Erika continued. "Something that might help me when I get out there. Especially with the Illyrians and the Skagarans."

"Sure," he replied, keeping his voice light. "It's important that you make a good first impression. Or—second impression."

She laughed, completely at ease with the conversation, while Jon couldn't feel more awkward if he tried. He suddenly realized what it reminded him of. He was like the ex-boyfriend, being relegated to the "just friends" role by the lady who had found love somewhere else.

Erika was already backing away, ready to move on. "I'll call you later. We'll set up a time."

"You're leaving?" This was all happening too quickly. It was all he could do to keep the tone of his voice casual.

She shrugged, no longer looking the least bit apologetic. "I have too much to do. We're going to the Expanse!" Her smile was radiant. She was fulfilled—more now than Jon had ever seen her before. She'd found the love of her life.

He returned her smile, genuinely happy for her. "You're shameless."

"That I am, Captain." And off she went, with a spring to her step.

He stood rooted to the spot, watching the doors swing shut behind her. Why was he so surprised? More importantly, why was he so _upset_?

Starship captains were married to their ships. Everyone knew that. Any other relationship was transitory, or purely physical. A dalliance, compared with the deep commitment of captain to vessel and crew.

And yet...ever since Karyn had gotten engaged to Lorian, Jon had been thinking about Esilia. A starship captain's _wife_, in another place, another life, one that he would never live.

During the trip home from Vulcan, he had pulled up Esilia's picture from the alternate _Enterprise's_ database. He had gazed at her beautiful, exotic face, wondering why marriage had been possible, and successful, for the other Jonathan Archer. Was it the unique situation—a generational ship, with no brass to answer to? Had his duties as captain been so different that he could love and marry without risk to his ship or crew? Or was it simply that what everyone knew...wasn't actually true?

What was it like for that Jon, to have a wife, love, marriage...a soulmate?

What was it like not to be _alone_?

Jon had realized then how much he wanted a chance at what his counterpart had. He had begun to think Erika was his opportunity. But now, with _Columbia_ ready to take wing at last, Erika had given her heart to her vessel. If he'd ever had a chance—_if_—it was lost now. She was already married...to _Columbia_.

Jon was too late.

-tbc-


	5. Meet the Parents

**...Touching and Touched**

Disclaimer: _Star Trek:_ _Enterprise_ is the property of CBS/Paramount. All original material herein is the property of its author.

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 5: _Meet the Parents_

The first thing Chuck said as he and Catherine stepped off the transport shuttle was, "You didn't tell us _Vulcans_ bombed the embassy."

"I'm fine, Dad," Trip answered pleasantly. "How was your trip?"

Catherine gave her son a hug in greeting. "Faster than I remember. Air travel always makes my head spin."

Chuck shook his head in disgust as he headed off to retrieve their luggage. "How can you work with those people, anyway?"

Trip sighed as he followed his father. _This visit's just gonna fly by, isn't it?_ "Now, Dad, I know you don't _mean_ to sound like a bigoted jerk, and 'those people' is just an unfortunate choice of words."

Catherine trailed after them. "Trip, try to understand his point of view..."

"They held our warp program back for a century!" Chuck fumed as he snagged their bags. "They kept Henry Archer from seeing his dream come true. They've been driving Jon crazy for years. Now they're killing our people, and you're siding with _them__?_"

"I'm not choosing sides," Trip said patiently. "A lot has changed on Vulcan in just the last few weeks—the whole government's being overhauled. Something like the bombing isn't going to happen again. Things are different now."

Chuck snorted. "Yeah, sure."

Trip hoisted a couple of the bags. "Oh, don't believe _me_. Never mind that I was there, watching history being made."

"Vulcan history? Who cares?"

"I do!" Trip declared.

"Since when?" Chuck retorted.

Catherine stepped between them. "Stop it, both of you." She turned to her husband. "Chuck, we didn't come here to argue. We came to hear Trip tell us what's been going on with him." She smiled meaningfully at Trip. "Finally."

Trip smiled back at her, taking the not-so-subtle scolding in stride. _Be careful what you wish for, Mom_.

Catherine held him at arm's length, studying his face. "Your color looks better, and you've put some weight back on," she noted with satisfaction. But she winced at his shirt. It was a fairly decent color for a change, a rich, deep red that bordered on burgundy. The pattern, though...it made her motion-sick just to look at it. "I see that wearing a uniform every day hasn't done anything to improve your fashion sense."

Trip made a show of looking wounded. "I happen to _like_ this shirt."

Chuck shrugged. "It's not as bad as the one he wore last visit, Cath. You know, that orange and purple thing?"

Catherine nodded in pained recollection. "I've been trying to forget that one."

"Is that all you're gonna do? Bust down my wardrobe?" Trip drew himself up with tattered dignity. "I have plenty of folks right here who can do that, thank you very much."

Catherine kissed her son on the cheek. "Aw, I can't resist funnin' you, sweetie."

Chuck grabbed the other two bags. "Ya gotta admit, son, it's like shootin' fish in a barrel."

"Hookay, moratorium on the son's clothes." Trip led the way out of the terminal. "I have a ground car down by the boardwalk."

- - - - -

It was nice to stroll along the boardwalk, feeling the cool sea breeze, listening to the gulls as they glided by overhead. Trip hadn't taken the time, back when _Enterprise_ had first returned from the Expanse.

"So...have you been to the memorial?" Catherine asked.

"I just came from there," Trip replied. "A whole group of us from _Enterprise_ were—"

"No." She shook her head. "I meant, the memorial in Florida. It was dedicated in May."

"Oh." Trip kept his voice neutral. "No. I saw some pictures." He saw his mother watching him expectantly, waiting for an explanation. "Mom, we've been on assignment this whole time."

"You're back now."

"Catherine," Chuck said quietly, an edge of caution in his voice.

She ignored her husband as she kept at Trip. "Aren't you planning on going?"

Trip glanced at his dad. Chuck shrugged tiredly and backed off. Apparently this was an old argument. Gently but directly, Trip told his mother, "I already went to Florida. I don't need to go back."

"Not even for Elizabeth?" Catherine's voice was still quiet, but her eyes were fixed on him, as if she expected some kind of revelation.

Trip set down the bags and turned to her. "Where are you going with this?"

Chuck dropped his bags too, making himself comfortable on a bench. Clearly, _he_ knew where this was going.

Catherine took Trip's hand solicitously. "Honey, you said in February that you were okay about Lizzie...but you didn't _tell_ us anything. You didn't talk about her at all."

"I didn't need to," he said simply.

Catherine only looked more concerned. "You haven't opened up to us since she died. I look at you, and I can't tell if you've grieved for her, or if you're still in denial, or if you've even let yourself to think about her." She hesitated. "I'm worried about you."

Now all the probing little questions made more sense. Trip patted her hand. "I'm fine, Mom. And I think I understand what's happening here. Back in February, you expected me to be broken, and you were all ready to fix me...except I didn't need fixing. That perturbs you, doesn't it? Just a little?"

From the way she drew back, he knew he'd hit a bull's-eye. "That's ridiculous," she declared, a little too strongly.

"It took Doc Brown a month to get that out of her," Chuck remarked.

"Shut your mouth, Chuck," Catherine snapped self-consciously.

Trip sat her down on the bench next to Chuck. "I wasn't avoiding talking to you. We've just been out of sync ever since the Xindi attack. You had three months' head start on me. All the time that _Enterprise_ was on its way back to Earth, I was hoping I'd find out that, somehow, Lizzie was okay. I dreamed up all kinds of scenarios—she was trapped, and I'd find her and get her out...she had amnesia, and that's why nobody'd heard from her...there'd just been some horrible mixup, or miracle, or mistake, and she was fine..." His voice quieted. "Then I saw that trench, and I knew she was gone."

Catherine's gaze reflected her shared heartache. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry."

"That's when I finally went into shock," Trip told her. "I dunno, maybe somebody could've gotten me to talk it out then. But you'd gone into your Frozen phase. You couldn't even say her name. Remember?"

Catherine thought back, and nodded, subdued. "Your brother's still stuck there."

Trip looked over at Chuck, who was staring out at the gulls floating over the fishing boats. "And Dad, he was already in his Anger phase. He didn't want to talk, either—all he wanted to do was break some heads."

Catherine took Chuck's hand. "We couldn't reach each other for quite a while, there." Wordlessly, Chuck brought her hand up and kissed it, and she smiled sadly at him.

"The Anger phase is where I went too, after we left for the Expanse." Trip gazed out at the ocean, watching splinters of sunlight dance across the water. "You asked if I thought about Lizzie. Yeah, I thought about her. All I did was think about her. I dreamed about her. I had nightmares about her. I didn't sleep for five months, because every time I closed my eyes, I'd watch her die all over again." He sighed. "I was broken, all right."

"Did Jon help you?" Catherine asked softly.

"He had his own problems out there. But...there was somebody else." Trip smiled as he remembered that first awkward evening of neuropressure with T'Pol...subterfuge, discord, embarrassment, and then a defiant sort of harmony, followed by the blessed relief of sleep for the first time in months. "The last person I ever expected."

Catherine and Chuck looked at their son's enigmatic smile, and exchanged a glance. _One of those special people he wants us to meet_, they agreed silently. "Who?" Catherine prompted.

Trip took a deep breath. _Here we go. The second step_. "Remember the science officer I told you about? T'Pol?"

Catherine's eyes widened. "Jon's first officer?"

If Mom's face said _Oh My Goodness_, Chuck's expression was more along the lines of _What The Hell?!_ "The Vulcan?" he asked incredulously.

"That's her," Trip replied smoothly. "She taught me some meditation techniques that stopped the nightmares and helped me sleep. We ended up spending a lot of time together...and we became really good friends."

Chuck was still aghast. "How on earth do you make friends with a Vulcan?"

"She's Captain Archer's friend, too," Trip replied. "It _is_ possible."

Chuck just rolled his eyes. Trip turned back to his mom, who was taking him seriously, at least. "It was with T'Pol that I was finally able to open up and grieve. She helped me to remember Lizzie laughing and happy." He smiled. "She gave Lizzie back to me."

A gamut of emotions crossed Catherine's features...relief, uncertainty, happiness. And envy. Trip had been right about his mom being upset that someone else succeeded where she had failed. "So...T'Pol...fixed you?"

"She saved my life," Trip said plainly.

Catherine drew in a silent breath as the sudden realization hit her like a thunderbolt. "You're in love with her."

Trip looked steadily at them both. "Yes."

"With a _Vulcan_?" Chuck blurted. "What kind of fool thing is that to do? They don't even _have_ emotions!"

"Sure they do, Dad," Trip replied easily. "They just keep 'em under control, is all."

"What does that mean?" Catherine asked with concern. "Does she love you? Does she even know what love is?"

Trip reached out with his mind. T'Pol was there, as always, her presence calm and sweet. He got to his feet with a smile. "She does. And she does." He picked up his bags. "You'll see when you meet her. Let's get a move on—we're stopping off at Starfleet before I take you to the hotel."

Chuck and Catherine rose together, eyeing Trip warily. "You're taking us to a funeral to meet your Vulcan girlfriend?" Chuck asked.

"Dressed like that?" Catherine added with trepidation.

"Naw." Trip grinned. "We're going to a party."

-tbc-


	6. Carpe Diem

**...Touching and Touched**

Disclaimer: _Star Trek:_ _Enterprise_ is the property of CBS/Paramount. All original material herein is the property of its author.

* * *

Chapter 6: _Carpe Diem_

"Where's Captain Hernandez?"

Archer looked up from his deep contemplation of the melting ice in his tea glass. Karyn, Lorian, and Soval were back, their mysterious little tête-à-tête apparently over. Behind them, the _E²_ crew members were politely excusing themselves from the other guests, migrating by small groups into the banquet room.

"We saw you talking with her," Karyn continued.

"She had to get back to _Columbia_." Archer adopted an enthused smile for the two of them. He might as well put the best spin possible on this, for their sake. "I have good news for you. _Columbia's_ going to the Expanse."

Lorian and Karyn glanced at each other in surprise. "In addition to _Enterprise_?" Lorian queried.

"No—instead of," Archer said, in the same upbeat tone.

Bless their hearts, they had the decency to look dismayed rather than thrilled. "But why?" Karyn asked.

Archer kept his voice matter-of-fact. "_Enterprise_ got pulled for a special assignment. So this is a great opportunity for you." The last, he said sincerely, because it was true enough.

The kids weren't fooled, of course. Neither was Soval, listening silently beside them. "I'm sorry, Papa," Karyn said quietly. "I know how much you wanted to go back."

"There'll be other missions to the Expanse." Archer sounded more confident than he felt. "We'll get back there."

"That is small comfort," Lorian responded, an edge of sympathetic frustration evident in his voice. "Can anything be done?"

Archer gave them a resigned little smile. "Accepting the inevitable gracefully seems to be the only option available."

Karyn took his hand. "Hey. Would attending an old-fashioned Vulcan bonding ceremony cheer you up?"

He frowned faintly in confusion. "Bonding ceremony? Who...?"

Karyn motioned to herself and Lorian. Archer's mouth fell open in happy astonishment. "You two? You, too?"

Lorian answered with a small but unmistakable Lorian-smile, while Karyn laughed delightedly at Archer's reaction. "We couldn't let Trip and T'Pol have all the fun."

Archer looked to Soval. "I take it you're in on this, too?"

Soval nodded in confirmation. "I have been enlisted to initiate the bonding meld."

"Soval informs us that, traditionally, the couple's family witnesses the bonding," Lorian said. "We are planning the ceremony for this evening. If your schedule permits—"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world!" Archer declared warmly.

"If you'd like to bring Captain Hernandez..." Karyn let her words trail off.

It was gracious of them, Archer thought, giving him the final say as to whether Erika rated as family. He took Karyn's hand lightly, his smile softening with wistfulness. "No. I think that's over."

Karyn's face fell. "Oh," she said softly. Archer shrugged faintly...accepting the inevitable, gracefully. It made her want to cry. She didn't know what to say, so she gripped his hand tightly, but it wasn't enough. Finally she hugged him. Wordlessly, he returned her embrace.

"Captain, please, join us in the banquet room," Lorian offered. "We and our old crew are having something of a family gathering. It is only fitting that you be there."

"Yes, come with us," Karyn urged.

"Thanks," Archer smiled. "I'd like that."

Karyn turned to Soval. "You too, Ambassador."

"I?" Soval inquired.

"Trip calls you a member of our extended family." Karyn's eyes sparkled impishly. "A 'cantankerous old uncle,' if I remember correctly."

Soval allowed himself a small sigh of resignation. "I believe I shall never escape that designation of Commander Tucker's." With dignity intact, he nodded. "I shall accompany you."

The four found T'Pol pacing near the big double doors, looking uncharacteristically fidgety. "Nervous?" Archer teased gently.

"_Trip_ is nervous," T'Pol replied. "He and his parents are due here momentarily."

Archer put his hand lightly on T'Pol's shoulder. "They're good people," he said reassuringly. "They'll just need a little time to adjust."

T'Pol glanced at her son as she replied. "They may need more than a 'little' time, Captain."

* * *

The cavernous banquet room was filled with the chatter of a hundred happy voices when Lorian and Karyn entered with Archer and Soval. Everyone was still visiting, comparing notes on new assignments, homes, travels, family members.

Lorian stepped onto the modest dais at one end of the room, handing Karyn up to join him. Archer and Soval remained off to one side, watching as the crew grew quiet, turning its attention to its former captain and first officer.

"We have an announcement," Lorian began.

"And because you've been our family, we wanted you to know," Karyn continued.

Lorian felt suddenly shy to be at the center of the crowd's rapt attention. Quite illogical, considering he had been the focus of their attention for over five decades as captain of _Enterprise_. He endeavored to keep his voice measured and calm. "Some of you may know that, soon after we arrived here, Lieutenant Archer and I...began courting."

The crowd erupted into an affectionate cacophony of whoops and squeals of delight. "I knew it!" Dr. Kelsey called out triumphantly. "That kiss Karyn planted on you on Captain Archer's _Enterprise_ while you were telling your parents' love story—that was the real thing, wasn't it?"

Lorian looked down, blushing faintly, while Karyn beamed beside him. He cleared his throat before managing to reply. "Indeed yes."

More whoops. Then half the crew was shushing the other half, while simultaneously prompting the pair. "So? So? How's it going?"

Karyn saw that Lorian appeared to have lost the power of speech. She took over. "He asked me to marry him."

_Big_ whoops. "And? And?!"

"Yes!" Karyn laughed. "I said yes!"

Cheers. Lorian, blushing deeply now, finally cracked a shy smile. Karyn took his hand as the crew clapped and whistled wildly for them, and Archer and Soval looked on with parental satisfaction.

"How'd it happen?" asked Beau Greer, the former tactical officer.

Lorian arched a wry eyebrow. "You all witnessed it. She swept me off my feet with that kiss." He got an appreciative laugh from the crowd.

"Then he swept me off _my_ feet," Karyn smiled. A chorus of "awwws" followed.

"Tell us about the wedding!" Abbie Mayweather from Security called out eagerly. "Details—we want details!"

Karyn smiled at Archer. "Not many details yet, except that Captain Archer is going to marry us on _Enterprise_." This announcement got awwws _and_ cheers.

"When?" one of the children asked.

"We don't have a clue," Karyn said with a little laugh. "We'd love for all of you to be there, but we don't know how to do it. _Columbia_ is launching in a few days for a deep-space mission. Admiral Gardner told us to have an 'understated' wedding. And all of you in Starfleet will be returning to your assignments by tomorrow."

"Earthers." Abbie Mayweather rolled her eyes. "They'll give you a day off for a funeral, but no time off for a wedding."

"That is why we gathered you here," Lorian explained to the group. "There is no way of determining when or if we will all be together again...so perhaps this day can serve as our celebration."

There was a moment of silence, as the crew tried to accept this consolation prize.

Then Kelsey, forthright as always, broke the stillness. "We're all here _now_."

There was a general murmur of assent. Everyone watched her curiously, wondering what she was up to. Kelsey climbed up on a chair and surveyed the crowd. "What's the earliest anyone's gotta leave?"

People started calling out days and times. The Starfleet crew members turned out to have the least time, most being obliged to leave for their postings by midnight.

"Well then," Kelsey concluded, "it looks to me like we have the rest of today. Plenty of time."

Lorian and Karyn stared at her, taken aback. Was she suggesting...?

"C'mon," Beau said. "It doesn't matter how much time we have. How do we stage an 'understated' wedding with a hundred guests?"

"It'll be on _Enterprise_," reminded Hill, Kelsey's nurse. "That won't attraction any attention."

The bride and groom under discussion watched speechlessly as the discussion bypassed them completely.

"You're forgetting about Captain Archer," Lewis from Astrometrics piped up. "You can't expect a starship captain to drop everything at a moment's notice."

Sure enough, Archer was ignored too, as the debate barreled right by him. "And how do we get everybody up to _Enterprise_ without attracting attention?" Sangerson from engineering went on.

Archer quietly pulled out his communicator, turning his back on the group, as Soval looked on curiously.

"Let's say we do get everyone up there," Andrews interjected. "Where do we find a room big enough to hold everybody?"

"Observation lounge!" declared Kelsey. "We already did it back in May."

"Aw, we were stuffed in there like pimientos," Beau grimaced. "Not exactly romantic."

Abbie giggled. "You obviously didn't see that kiss Karyn gave the captain, then." The room broke into laughter.

Archer climbed onto the dais beside Karyn and Lorian. "If anyone's interested, I've solved the pimiento issue," he said, snapping his communicator shut and tucking it away. "In two hours, I'll have a cargo bay empty on _Enterprise_. Not the most attractive surroundings, but it'll fit well over a hundred people."

A smattering of applause broke out. "Well done, Captain!" Beau grinned.

Archer turned to Karyn and Lorian. "I've cleared my schedule for the rest of the day. I didn't have much planned anyway, because of the memorial. So if this bunch can get up to the ship without causing too much of a stir...I'll marry you today. _If_ that's what you want." He spread his hands. "Just making sure you have options."

Karyn's head was spinning. Everything was happening so quickly, she could hardly think. "At least _someone_ is asking us." She looked at Lorian and saw the same half-dazed, intrigued expression on his face that she knew she must be wearing.

The crew's conversation promptly galloped off without them again. "I have a cargo ship that'll hold forty people, easy," offered Andrews.

"I can take a dozen in my ship," volunteered Bill Wilson. "If you don't mind playing with the kids on the way."

"Wait a minute." Abbie, clearly upset, hopped onto the dais beside Karyn. "This isn't some make-up baseball game you're slapping together here. It's a wedding!" She faced Archer, nervous but determined. "With all due respect, Captain, a woman's wedding day is supposed to be a profound, once-in-a-lifetime, remember-forever experience, with flowers and special vows and a beautiful dress..." Self-conscious now, she turned apologetically to Karyn. "I just want you to have the wedding of your dreams. Even if it means we can't be there."

The crowd looked a little abashed. As a few murmured apologies drifted up to the dais, Archer nodded toward Abbie. "She makes sense," he remarked to Karyn, before stepping down.

For the first time since this wild scheme was brought up, Karyn felt the entire room focusing on her. Lorian was wearing one of his inscrutable Vulcan faces, so she couldn't tell what he wanted. "I would, of course, understand," he said, "if you preferred the traditional accoutrements to make the ceremony properly memorable."

So it was up to her.

* * *

Trip stuck his head into the Great Hall, fully expecting the wake to look like, well, a funeral. To his surprise, though, the guests seemed pretty upbeat. They were dressed colorfully and swapping stories, and most of them were smiling, even laughing.

Trip ushered Catherine and Chuck inside. T'Pol emerged from the throng, an arresting sight in the vermilion-red uniform she had changed into for the party...certainly nothing like the Vulcans his mom and dad were used to seeing. As she approached, Trip was seized by a weird combination of joy and panic.

_The third step. Oh God_—_I can't breathe. How the hell could I forget how to breathe?_

He heard T'Pol's voice in his mind, little more than a whisper... /Always, _t'hai'la_./ He could feel her steadying him, soothing his frazzled nerves, reassuring him. As he began breathing again, he smiled at her.

T'Pol took her place at his side, a portrait of Vulcan serenity. Trip felt a little thrill of excitement as he turned to his parents. "Mom, Dad...this is Commander T'Pol, First Officer and Science Officer of _Enterprise_. T'Pol, my parents, Catherine and Charles Tucker Jr."

Catherine and Chuck were both struck by how beautiful she was. Most Vulcans they'd seen had a remoteness that dulled even the most pleasing appearance, but T'Pol's velvet-brown eyes were warm and welcoming. She inclined her head formally in greeting. "I am honored."

They nodded politely back to her. Trip could tell that his mother was bursting with curiosity, while his dad was more wary. Trip said no more for the moment. Just let them get used to seeing him and T'Pol together. There'd be plenty of time to fill in the particulars.

He surveyed the crowd. "The party looks a lot more decent than I expected."

"The atmosphere was decidedly more funereal a short while ago," T'Pol said.

"What turned it around?"

"The arrival of Lorian and Karyn's former crew."

Trip grinned. "Leave it to that pack of optimists to live up to the spirit of the admiral's last wishes." He looked around. "Where are they, anyway?"

T'Pol nodded toward the banquet room. "They have all gathered in there."

Trip turned to his parents. "Lorian and Karyn are the other two people I want you to meet." He took a deep breath—yep, he was still breathing—and then led the way toward the banquet room.

* * *

Karyn looked from Lorian to her former crewmates and back again, trying to remember if she'd ever had a "wedding of her dreams." She had certainly dreamed about getting married...years of endless daydreams. As she had grown older, the dreams began coming to her at night, evolving from a child's fantasies to a woman's yearnings. But always, there had been one constant.

She smiled as everything settled in her mind. "When I dreamed of my wedding, all I ever pictured was...Lorian." There came a soft, appreciative sigh from the onlookers. Karyn took Lorian's hand. "All I need is you, love. And I don't want to waste a moment."

As hearts melted all over the room, Lorian smiled tenderly at her. "As you wish, beloved. Today we shall marry."

Karyn's breath caught, and she found herself laughing joyfully. "Oh, wow. Here we go!" The crew clapped and whistled its approval.

Archer checked his chronometer. "It's just after eleven hundred hours. There's time for a little more partying here, then you all can slip out and get to _Enterprise_ by, say, fifteen hundred hours? Agreed?"

"Aye, Captain!" came a chorus of responses.

"Wait another minute," Abbie broke in worriedly. "Who's going to give the bride away? It would be Captain Archer, because he's the closest thing to father of the bride, except he's performing the ceremony. He can't walk Karyn down the aisle and be waiting at the end of the aisle at the same time."

Tony Mayweather patted his wife's hand. "Maybe she doesn't need anyone to give her away, Abbie. She's a grown woman. Hell, she was first officer of a starship for five years."

Abbie turned meekly to Karyn. "Aw, shut me up. I'm just a sucker for tradition."

"It's a sweet tradition, Abbie." Karyn shrugged and smiled. "But I'm running out of family here."

Soval stepped forward, the epitome of Vulcan decorum. "Would a 'cantankerous old uncle' suffice?" he inquired formally.

Karyn was quite touched, by Soval's courtly gesture. "I'd love for you to give me away, Ambassador."

The crew watched the exchange in admiring, breath-held silence, as if they were beholding a rare natural wonder and didn't want to spook it into hiding.

Soval hesitated. "A certain measure of familiarity would seem logical, given the occasion." Karyn saw a twinkle of amusement in his eyes that reminded her of Lorian. "You may, if you wish, address me as 'Uncle'."

And he had a sense of humor, too. How glorious! Karyn was utterly charmed. "Thank you, Uncle."

Archer leaned in between them, with a look of mock jealousy. "_I_ don't get to call him that."

Soval looked down his nose at Archer, playing the snooty know-it-all of old. "Use of such an intimate honorific must be earned, Captain. When _you_ plan to marry, we will discuss it further."

"Okay, let's get the details wrapped up!" Kelsey called out. "Who else can shuttle folks to _Enterprise_?..."

* * *

Trip and T'Pol pushed open the double doors and led Catherine and Chuck into the banquet room. It was like walking from twilight into sunshine, so different was the mood in this room...dozens of people, adults and children, excitedly chattering among themselves. Several people were volunteering their personal transport shuttles for some kind of convoy. The atmosphere was festive, palpable with expectation. Something was brewing. Trip wondered what they had missed.

"They're in here somewhere," he told his parents. "Just gotta hunt 'em down." As Catherine and Chuck watched the happy crowd, Trip scanned the room for Lorian and Karyn.

T'Pol drew up beside him, murmuring quietly, "How much do they know?"

"That we're in love with each other," Trip said, as he craned his neck, trying to see over people's heads. "I didn't even have to tell Mom how I felt about you—she guessed."

T'Pol waited, but Trip offered nothing further. "You have told them nothing more? _T'hai'la_..."

"Don't worry," he reassured her. "Considering that an hour ago Vulcans were on Dad's shit list right behind the Xindi, I figure I should let each tidbit simmer for a while before I spring something new on 'em. I don't want to rush things." Trip spotted the kids on the dais at the other end of the room, with Archer and Soval. "There they are."

Just then, a bridge officer from Lorian's old crew—Beau Greer was his name, Trip recalled—brushed by them, and pulled up with a smile of recognition. He turned, calling across the room, his voice booming out. "_Lorian!_ Your parents are here!"

Trip winced. T'Pol resisted the temptation to say a number of things, instead settling for silence and an eloquently raised eyebrow in Trip's direction.

Catherine and Chuck glanced at each other in confusion. They followed Greer's gaze to the dais, where they saw Jon Archer and Ambassador Soval standing with a lovely raven-haired young woman in Starfleet blues...and another officer.

A man who looked to be in his forties.

And Vulcan.

He raised a hand toward Trip and T'Pol in acknowledgment.

Catherine and Chuck gaped at him, slack-jawed with shock.

"Wait till you hear!" Greer boisterously greeted Trip and T'Pol. "Lorian and Karyn are getting married today!"

Now T'Pol's speechlessness was genuine. Trip's jaw dropped. "Come again?"

"In four hours, on _Enterprise_," Greer confirmed. "That way we can all be there. Uncle Soval's standing in for father of the bride, because Captain Archer's going to marry them. Lorian was a little worried a while back that it might be 'unseemly' if they got married before you and T'Pol did, but I knew you'd think that was silly." He clapped Trip on the shoulder. "See you there!" And he bounded out, into the Great Hall.

Trip didn't hear a sound from his parents' direction. Maybe they had already fainted dead away. Steeling himself, he turned to look. They were frozen somewhere between horror and flabbergastation.

Trip smiled weakly. "Surprise!"

Catherine's gaze shifted from Trip to T'Pol. "You two are...getting married?"

All the carefully thought-out explanations Trip had prepared for his parents—gone. Vanished. He couldn't remember a single word. "Well...uh...we kinda are already, in a sorta spiritual-telepathic Vulcan way." He blanched as his parents looked even more stunned. "But, um—not legally—yet. See, T'Pol is still marr—well, no, she's not exactly _still_ married—she was released, which is the Vulcan version of a divorce—or in this case, an annulment, since her marriage was never the real deal anyway, it was just an in-name-only blackmail job, an' she left right after the ceremony, but we honored it, even so. But her un-marriage isn't legal yet, either, so we're not married yet. Legally."

His folks were still staring at him. Trip cleared his throat. "But yes, Mom, we're gonna get married. Soon."

Catherine nodded slowly, somewhere in the vicinity of absorbing the information. But as her eyes wandered back to Lorian, she looked adrift again. "And that man up there...Lorian?...is your...son." She frowned, trying mightily to wrap her head around the idea, but failing utterly.

Trip nodded, afraid to open his mouth now. His eyes flicked to T'Pol. She had her unreadable Vulcan Composed Face on, but he could feel her gentle sympathy through the bond. And he sensed a little "I told you so" in there, too. Most illogical of her, damn it all.

Finally Chuck spoke. "He looks like he's pushing fifty."

_Might as well go down in flames, and put on a nice show for everybody_. "Actually, Dad, he's a hundred and one."

Chuck scowled at Lorian for another long moment, then turned away, shaking his head.

Catherine was eyeing Karyn with a different kind of befuddlement. "Jon is...father of the bride?"

"Great-grandfather," T'Pol corrected her.

Trip shut his eyes. _Well now, how's about a full-on bonfire for the crowd?_

Catherine looked more confused than ever. Still, she valiantly tried to make sense of it. "'Uncle' Soval?"

Trip laughed with relief. At last, something he could correct! "Aw, he's not really anybody's uncle. That's just a term of endearment."

"For Ambassador Cranky?!" Chuck blurted.

"He's changed a lot lately, Dad," Trip replied lamely. "We don't call him that anymore. We think of him as part of the family now." He cringed as soon as the words left his mouth. That wasn't gonna translate at _all_.

His mom had a genteel half-smile on her face, but he could practically see her brain circuits smoking, crisping, burning out before his eyes. "I need to sit down," she said woozily. T'Pol hurried to pull a chair out for her.

Chuck hmmphed. "I need a _drink_." He stalked out of the banquet room.

Trip rubbed his eyes tiredly. _Kill me. Kill me now_.

-tbc-


	7. The Simple Version

**...Touching and Touched**

Disclaimer: _Star Trek:_ _Enterprise_ is the property of CBS/Paramount. All original material herein is the property of its author.

* * *

Chapter 7: _The Simple Version_

**sim-ple** _adjective_ 1. Not involved or complicated. 2. Manifesting little sense or intelligence.

- - - - -

All things considered, Catherine and Chuck took it pretty...okay. That is, after T'Pol got Catherine some water, and Trip coaxed Chuck back into the banquet room and sat him down with his Scotch. Where Dad had scrounged the booze this time of day, Trip didn't even want to know. The two of them listened silently as Trip stumbled through an explanation of the subspace corridor in the Expanse, the alternate timeline, the other Trip and T'Pol, and Lorian's _Enterprise_. When he tried to explain about T'Pol, though...

"...And about one _minute_ before I'm gonna tell her I have feelings for her, her long-lost childhood betrothed shows up, who she dumped three years ago, and says, 'Hey, T'Pol, if you marry me, I'll get your mom her old job back, which she was drummed out of on account of your being blamed for that P'Jem thing that you didn't have anything to do with anyway, no pressure, but all you gotta do to keep your mom from rotting away in retirement is to be unhappy for the rest of your life.' So of course she marries the skunk, because she's an honorable woman, but at least she leaves him in the dust right after the wedding and comes back to _Enterprise_ 'cause that's part of the deal. And we _could_ ignore each other, but we stay best friends instead, 'cause we're not gonna let the skunk ruin that, are we? And it's hard, you wouldn't believe how hard it is, because we can't tell each other how we feel, T'Pol being married an' all, but we're doing all right, and then boom! Lorian comes back from the dead, or the never-was—see, we thought maybe he didn't exist at all after the timeline reset itself—but he's back, and he says, 'Hey, Mom and Dad'—see, we kinda adopt each other because he's an orphan and we're so glad he's alive an' all— 'Hey, Mom, your marriage is not logical, and I don't think it will last long.' So the first thing T'Pol and I do after hearing that is, we tell each other how we feel, which makes things better _and_ worse, 'cause she's still married, but finally the skunk 'fesses up that his folks put him up to it and he was just being a good son—seein' as how Vulcans are really big on family responsibility, even when the parents are selfish idiots—and he turns good-guy and releases T'Pol from her marriage." Trip took a deep breath. "I called you two the very next day."

He looked from one parent to the other...expectantly, hopefully, apprehensively. Catherine still appeared shell-shocked. Chuck took another pull on his drink, but said nothing. Trip felt as if he were floundering. Then he sensed T'Pol's presence resonating through the bond, buoying him up. Though she was standing behind him, he smiled, and he knew she saw him with her mind's eye.

Archer and Soval were approaching, with Lorian and Karyn between them. Sensing the tension in the air, the kids hung back, taking care not to enter the arena prematurely. Archer stepped forward, sweeping Catherine up in a warm hug of greeting. "It's great to see you, Catherine."

"Jon." Catherine smiled at him, a little nervously, as she stole glances at Lorian and Karyn, then T'Pol. "This is all such a surprise."

Chuck shook Archer's hand. "I can think of a few other words."

"I'll bet," Archer chuckled. "How're you doing, Chuck?"

The elder Tucker shrugged, at a loss. "I don't have any idea."

Archer motioned to Soval. "You know Ambassador Soval."

"Well, according to what I'm hearin', we _don't_," Chuck said, clearly exasperated. "_Uncle_ Soval. Has the whole world gone crazy?"

"I know it might seem that way." Archer looked them up and down. "I can see part of the problem right now. Each of you has the pinched face of someone trying to make sense of time travel, and everything that goes with it." He indicated Lorian and Karyn. Catherine gave him a clipped nod, while Chuck just looked heavenward.

"_Shared confusion lightens flummoxation." Surak should've put __that__ in the Kir'Shara,_ Archer thought dryly. Aloud, he said, "I have a little trick that works for me. Time travel gives me a headache, so I _don't_ try to make sense of it. I just go with it. Everything looks a little less bewildering when I'm not trying to fit it into some conventional reality."

Catherine nodded cautiously, while Chuck mulled it over, chewing his lip in a very Trip-like gesture.

"As for Trip and T'Pol," Archer went on, "think of them as...Romeo and Juliet. But without the suicides."

Chuck didn't look convinced. But a tiny smile graced Catherine's face as she looked anew at her son and his beloved. Trip could almost see the shackles of preconception fall away as his mother's normal, friendly countenance returned. She approached T'Pol. "I understand you helped my son through the loss of his sister. I want to thank you for that."

"He honored me with his trust." T'Pol's expression softened. "Your son has also aided me in times of great difficulty. His compassion and kindness have been a source of strength for me."

Catherine smiled warmly at her. "You couldn't have picked a finer man."

T'Pol's face remained composed, but Trip felt her exquisite smile through the bond. "On that point, we are agreed, Mrs. Tucker," she replied.

"Please, call me Catherine," his mom said. Inwardly, Trip heaved a sigh of relief. Mom was big on courtesy—she didn't offer to be on a first-name basis with just anybody. She meant it.

Catherine turned to Lorian and Karyn. Taking their cue, Trip and Archer brought them forward. "Mom, Dad," Trip said formally, "this is our son Lorian."

"And his fiancée, my great-granddaughter Karyn," added Archer.

"Kids, meet my folks, Catherine and Charles Jr.," Trip finished. He stepped back, nervous as hell, unconsciously holding his breath again.

Dad's face was still unreadable. Mom came through with flying colors, though, giving the kids a pleasant smile. "We're glad to meet you both."

"The honor is ours, Mrs. Tucker," Lorian replied.

"We've been looking forward to meeting you," Karyn added warmly. Unlike everyone else, they weren't the least bit self-conscious.

Catherine studied Lorian, taking in his Vulcan ears and placid demeanor, contrasting them with his fair hair and startlingly blue eyes. "Chuck...he has your eyes."

Chuck downed the rest of his Scotch and cautiously ventured closer. His guarded expression softened the tiniest bit as he looked into Lorian's calm face. "I'll be damned. Those are the Tucker baby blues, all right."

Suddenly, Catherine realized they were examining him like a horse up for auction. "I'm so sorry. We don't mean to stare."

"There is no offense where none is taken," Lorian answered mildly. Trip smiled to himself, recognizing Surak's words. Lorian went on, "We understand if this situation is quite disconcerting to you both."

"It is an awful lot to swallow," Dad responded bluntly.

"Hush, Chuck," Catherine intervened smoothly. "You're talking to our grandson." She gasped softly. "Oh my goodness...our _grandson_." She smiled at Lorian again, with the same affectionate gaze she would give a new baby. When he responded with a tiny smile of his own, she positively beamed. Trip knew then that she'd really made the shift, bless her. Lorian _was_ family to her now.

She turned her attention to Karyn. "And Karyn, you're such a pretty thing. Tell me about your ancestry, child."

"My great-grandmother..." —Karyn nodded to Archer— "...Papa's wife, was Ikaaran."

Catherine repeated the word carefully. "Ikaaran."

Chuck gave Archer a sly look. "At least you settled down and had a family in _some_ reality or other."

"Don't start," Archer warned good-naturedly.

Catherine noticed that Jon's usual easy confidence was subdued, his lovely smile quieter. And there was a sadness in his eyes that seemed to extend far deeper than the loss of Admiral Forrest. She was beginning to understand why no one wanted to talk about what _Enterprise_ had gone through during the war. It must have been the kind of horrible that family was never supposed to know about. And for Jon, the captain, it must have been worst of all.

She set her troubling thoughts aside and focused on happier matters again. "What kind of ceremony are you planning?"

"Planning?" Karyn laughed. "There's not a whole lot of that going on."

"We've decided on traditional human vows, as soon as I dig them out of the database." Archer looked a little nervous. "This will be my first wedding."

"Since we're doing a human ceremony..." Karyn looked hopefully to T'Pol. "Would you be my maid of honor?"

T'Pol nodded, touched. "Of course."

Lorian turned to Trip. "Father, it would please me if you would be my best man."

Trip felt a sudden lump in his throat. "I'd be glad to, son."

Catherine watched the exchange happily with the others. Chuck was still stuck back at Trip being called "Father" by this Lorian fellow. It was unnerving.

"There will also be a Vulcan ritual," Lorian informed the group. "Ambassador Soval has agreed to perform a bonding ceremony for the two of us this evening."

Trip's face lit up, while T'Pol's expressive brown eyes reflected her joy.

"After hearing about your bond, we got to talking last night," Karyn explained. "And we realized that's what we wanted."

"I'm almost afraid to ask," Catherine said meekly. "But...what's this 'bond' of yours?"

"We didn't quite get that far, did we?" Trip gulped. "Well, uh, to put it nice and simple—"

"Allow me, Catherine," T'Pol interjected smoothly. "When a Vulcan chooses a mate, a telepathic link forms between them. We refer to it as a bond."

"Show-off," Trip murmured out of the corner of his mouth.

Catherine blinked at them in amazement, while Chuck looked vaguely disturbed. "You can read each other's minds?" he asked.

Soval mentally shook his head. Why humans invariably leaped to that conclusion when first introduced to the concept of bonding, he could not fathom. Perhaps it had to do with their woeful inability to communicate with each other so much of the time.

"Not precisely," T'Pol replied. "We sense each other's presence in our minds." She recalled the way Trip had described the bond to Lorian yesterday. "It is akin to a mental variant of...holding hands."

Catherine was charmed. "That's lovely."

"Or sharing souls," Karyn murmured softly to Lorian. They gave each other a look that was briefly, unabashedly adoring. In that moment, Chuck saw a shy sweetness in Lorian's face that, despite the ears, made him look nothing at all like a Vulcan.

Karyn smiled brightly as she faced the group again. "We want you all to be there. It's traditional for family to witness the bonding ceremony."

Catherine and Chuck exchanged a quick, uncertain glance, which did not escape Lorian's notice. "The invitation includes you as well," he told them.

"Aw, don't feel obligated to invite us," Chuck said. Truth be told, he couldn't think of a weirder way to spend an evening than watching Ambassador Cranky do some bizarre Vulcan mumbo-jumbo to get Lorian and Karyn to hold hands inside each other's heads. It sounded...unnatural.

"We do not feel obligated," Lorian replied. "We invite you because we wish for you to attend."

"You hardly even know us," Catherine demurred. "We don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

"How could we?" Karyn smiled. "You're family."

Chuck saw Catherine melt, and he knew the evening of Vulcan mumbo-jumbo was a lock. "Then of course we'll be there," his wife said warmly.

Archer gave Karyn a kiss on the cheek. "I have to get going. I have a cargo bay to clear, and some wedding vows to find." He paused, and Catherine saw his beautiful smile return as he gazed down at the girl. "Have I told you how happy I am for you, honey?"

She hugged him tight. "Only a few dozen times."

Archer shook Lorian's hand. "See you on _Enterprise_." With a nod of farewell to the rest of the family, he headed out.

Catherine watched pensively as the door of the banquet room shut behind him. "He's been through a lot more than he's told anyone, hasn't he?"

"Yeah, Mom, he has," Trip said quietly.

Catherine smiled at Karyn. "But when he's with you...you give him a calm that I haven't seen in a long time. I knew having a family would be good for him."

"He's been good for me, too, Mrs. Tucker," Karyn replied.

"Please." Catherine held up a hand. "It's Catherine."

Karyn returned the woman's smile. "Catherine."

Chuck looked Lorian up and down. Now that he was stuck with this situation, he might as well do what he could to help the boy with the whole wedding rigamarole. "Well, son, you don't plan on gettin' married in that uniform, do you?"

"No," Karyn answered flatly.

"Apparently not," Lorian murmured, a bit bemused.

Chuck had to smile. This gal Karyn had spunk. "Then we'd better find you something proper."

Soval stepped forward. "If I may suggest...I have robes that would be appropriate, and we are of a similar size. My quarters are at the Vulcan embassy."

Lorian was wise enough to glance at his fiancée, who appeared satisfied by the suggestion. He nodded to Soval. "That would be agreeable, Ambassador."

Catherine turned to Karyn. "We need to find you something pretty to wear, too, child."

Karyn smiled to herself. She already had something in mind, though she had never worn it. She hoped it would fit. "There might be something on _Columbia_. We'll start there."

"I understand tradition dictates that the maid of honor assist the bride-to-be in wedding preparations," T'Pol stated. "I shall accompany you both."

"Well, Dad?" Trip asked, with a twinkle in his eye. "You can go with the womenfolk to pick out a wedding dress, or come with us to the Vulcan embassy. Which'll it be?"

Chuck glowered at him. "Did I wrong you in a former life?"

"You can have him," Catherine said. "His fashion sense doesn't much extend beyond coveralls."

Trip smoothed his dizzyingly-patterned burgundy shirt, looking pleased with himself. "Unlike _my_ enviable panache."

"Don't press your luck," Chuck cautioned under his breath.

"Okay then!" Trip announced. "The best man and the granddad are taggin' along with the groom and Uncle Soval."

He almost laughed out loud when both Chuck and Soval gave him identical looks of ill-concealed annoyance. "Commander," the Ambassador intoned patiently, "endeavor to control your exuberance. Have you learned nothing from your bondmate?"

"Sorry." Trip tried to look contrite, but he just couldn't. This was way too much fun. "Just excited, I guess. It's not every day that my son gets married."

Lorian turned to Karyn. "We will meet on _Enterprise_, before the ceremony."

"You will _not_," Catherine declared firmly.

Lorian hesitated. "I beg your pardon?"

"The groom can't see the bride before the wedding!"

Lorian regarded her with confusion. "Why not?"

"It's bad luck," Trip said aside to him.

"That is hardly a sufficient reason."

Catherine turned to Trip, hands on hips. "Trip, haven't you taught your boy anything?"

"I only met him a couple of months ago!" Trip protested.

Lorian sensed another inexplicable human custom in the offing. It would be better to accept than to try to comprehend. "I shall abide by your restrictions, Catherine." To Karyn, he said, "Evidently, I will _not_ see you on _Enterprise_."

"Until the wedding, then." Karyn took his hands in hers and gave him a sweet kiss...their last, as husband and wife yet to be. They stood together, holding hands, gazing contentedly at each other, the rest of the world quickly forgotten.

Then Catherine was shooing Lorian away. "You'll see her at three, Lorian. Go on, now."

Reluctantly, Lorian allowed Trip to pull him away from Karyn. Trip gave her a hug and a kiss. "Don't worry, darlin'. I'll take good care of him." Then he and Chuck led Lorian out of the banquet room.

Soval lingered, drawing Karyn aside. Quietly, he said, "I understand that color can play an important role in human wedding ceremonies. Since I am tasked with attiring your husband-to-be, if you have a preference, perhaps I can accommodate it."

Karyn was touched by the ambassador's consideration. How she had happened upon the two most charming Vulcans in the galaxy—likely the _only_ two charming Vulcans—she would never know. She shut her eyes briefly, visualizing the color. She'd only seen it once, but the image was vivid in her mind. "Pale blue...almost like ice," she said. "Something that goes with that."

For a moment, Soval looked surprised. Then, recovering his Vulcan calm, he gave her a courtly nod. "As you wish, niece."

She broke into a smile, blushing faintly. Soval did not know why his use of the light-hearted endearment had such a profound effect on her, but he found that it pleased him. "Thank you, Uncle," she said softly. "For everything you're giving us today."

"It is my honor," he replied. With a nod of farewell, he departed.

Karyn turned to the waiting T'Pol and Catherine. "Ladies, shall we...?"

As they made their way through the Great Hall, Karyn searched the crowd. She spotted Admiral Gardner in conversation with a few guests near the buffet tables, and headed over. "Excuse me, Admiral..."

Gardner brightened when he saw her. "Lieutenant Archer! I understand congratulations are in order."

"Thank you, sir," she replied. "In fact, that's why I'm here. I know it's short notice, but if you're free at fifteen hundred hours, swing by _Enterprise_. Lorian and I are getting married." As Gardner's mouth dropped open in surprise, Karyn grinned. "Hope to see you there, sir." With that, she collected T'Pol and Catherine and left to find a shuttle to _Columbia_.

-tbc-


	8. Facets

**...Touching and Touched**

Disclaimer: _Star Trek:_ _Enterprise_ is the property of CBS/Paramount. All original material herein is the property of its author.

* * *

Chapter 8: _Facets_

As the four men headed out of the Starfleet compound, a lingering cluster of demonstrators set upon them, lobbing a barrage of protests and insults at Soval and Lorian. Instinctively, Trip stepped between the noisemakers and the Vulcans, even though Starfleet security was still out in force, maintaining a wide safety zone.

Without missing a beat, the protesters turned their invectives on Trip and Chuck. "Vulcan-lovers!...Traitors to your species!..." It was Trip's first up-close exposure to the xenophobia, and it was startling. He hadn't believed people could be this thick-headed, not really.

He put his head down and herded his family past the demonstrators. Chuck was even more rattled than he was. Lorian kept his composure, but Trip could tell that his son was unsettled. Only Soval remained unaffected, moving smoothly past the hecklers without so much as batting an eye.

When they were safely out of range, Trip finally slowed his pace. "You okay, Dad? Lorian?"

"Yeah." Chuck still looked troubled. "I never expected..." He trailed off, casting an uncomfortable glance at Lorian and Soval. He never expected to be accused of chumming around with Vulcans, damn it all. Especially being chummy with _Soval_—the snottiest, grouchiest, most disapproving Vulcan of them all. But all that name-calling sounded a lot different when he was one of the targets. God, _was_ he a bigoted jerk? Was Trip right?

"I should have expected it," Lorian admitted. "Being on _Columbia_, I have been more insulated than I realized."

"Didn't seem to bother you," Chuck remarked to Trip.

Trip masked his unease with a lopsided grin. "After squaring off against the Xindi, a few home-grown assholes are no big deal."

Chuck hesitated. "I guess you're used to it, because of...y'know, you and T'Pol."

"Not especially," Trip confessed. "On _Enterprise_, we're probably more insulated than Lorian. We've hardly stepped foot on Earth since May. But after we get married, I suppose we'll _have_ to get used to it." He eyed Soval. "You certainly took it in stride. What's your secret? Vulcan imperturbability?"

"Naturally," the ambassador replied with aplomb. "As well as the fact that I have concealed myself behind a supremely insufferable persona for over three decades."

Trip chuckled. "Oh, right. You _are_ an old hand at being the target of open hostility."

Chuck looked askance at Soval. "...Concealed?"

"A necessary if distasteful subterfuge, undertaken for the benefit of the Vulcan High Command," Soval clarified. "To enable me to remain Earth's ambassador."

"Soval's been on our side all along," Trip revealed with a wink.

_Soval? A good guy? In a pig's eye..._ "Do tell," Chuck said stonily.

"There were many in the High Command who believed that humanity's advance into space might threaten those who held power on Vulcan," Soval stated.

"The power-holders bein' those same leery folks in the High Command," Trip interjected.

"If I had made my affinity for your people known," Soval continued, "and lobbied for equal alliance earlier, the High Command would simply have ended my tenure here—and my partnership with Admiral Forrest. I would have been replaced by someone more supportive of inhibiting your progress. By remaining, I was able to help the Admiral in more...subtle ways."

Chuck squinted at him. "You expect me to believe you pretended to be an arrogant jerk...to _help_ us?"

Soval eyed the elder Tucker speculatively. "Considering your obvious skepticism...no, I do not." He continued placidly on to the waiting ground car. Trip laughed, and Chuck scowled at him.

* * *

Karyn got the three of them on a Starfleet courtesy shuttle that was making regular trips to _Columbia_ and _Enterprise_. As the craft lifted off, Catherine regarded T'Pol curiously. "How did your mother react when you told her about you and Trip? I suppose she was more even-keeled about it, being Vulcan."

"Even..." T'Pol was not familiar with the phrase, but she could infer its meaning from context. "She opposed the idea. She reasoned that our cultural differences would preclude a successful relationship."

"You _are_ very different." Catherine paused. "Are you concerned about that?"

"We have the advantage of a unique hindsight: Lorian's account of his parents' marriage," T'Pol replied.

"Everyone else on the ship admired Trip and T'Pol for their devotion to each other," Karyn smiled. "Their love story was always the children's favorite."

Catherine was enchanted. "They told stories about you?"

"An oral history of sorts, as I understand it," T'Pol affirmed. "As to the differences between your son and myself, whether they compel us to learn from each other or argue with each other—or both—they serve to strengthen our bond, rather than compromise it."

"Did your mother come around to your way of thinking?"

T'Pol recalled her final moments with T'Les, in that wondrous, enlightening mind-meld. "At the last, she told me she had been in error. She was glad for us."

Catherine hesitated. "At the last?"

"My mother was killed during our mission on Vulcan," T'Pol said calmly. "She was part of a group wrongly accused of being a threat. Their deaths were engineered by the same men responsible for the embassy bombing."

Stricken by T'Pol's admission, Catherine instinctively reached out to her. "I'm so sorry..." Then she remembered that Vulcans didn't like casual touching, and started to pull back.

T'Pol extended her own hand, clasping Catherine's lightly. "I was with her before she died. We were able to share many things."

"That's a comfort, at least." Catherine felt tears in her eyes. Self-consciously, she looked away. "I don't mean to be gettin' all emotional on you."

"You need not apologize for revealing your heart," T'Pol said kindly. "I see that compassion is a family trait, and an admirable one."

Catherine blinked back her tears. "I wouldn't have thought Vulcans value compassion."

"My perspective regarding emotion has always been somewhat...anomalous," T'Pol explained, with a touch of wryness. "But even our greatest teacher, Surak, acknowledged that logic without emotion is incomplete. Emotions have great power, and must be respected if we are to have any hope of mastering them."

Catherine smiled at her. "Sounds like good advice for anybody."

* * *

Callahan squinted in the bright sunlight as he stood in front of the entrance to his jazz club. He wasn't used to the sunlight, but he wanted to be here while the workmen replaced the broken windows. The last time, they messed up the framework—took a week to straighten everything out. Pain in the ass.

Kyle came out, wiping her hands on a bar towel, her dark auburn hair turning fiery in the sunshine. "Somebody's just gonna break 'em again, Boss. You know that, don't you?"

Callahan folded his beefy arms defiantly across his chest. "What d'you want me to do? Cave? Bar aliens from my place? You know me better than that, Kyle. Callahan's refuses service to no one! Except for the asshole 'phobes who bust my windows."

Kyle smiled, laying a hand on his arm. "What I meant was, maybe you should invest in glassteel next time."

Callahan snorted. "Like I can afford _that_." He surveyed the gleaming new windows as the workmen laid the framework in place. "I kinda like it better this way. Every time the 'phobes break 'em, I'm gonna put up new ones, and they're gonna see it." He nodded with satisfaction. "Shows 'em they're not gonna get to me, ever."

"Have the authorities caught who did it?" asked a solicitous voice behind them.

"Nah," Callahan answered the passerby, without looking. "These 'phobes skulk around in the dark, like rats. 'Sides, the cops've had their hands full enough lately, what with the memorial an' all. Every loony in the region musta come here to make a stink, from what I've—"

Kyle was tugging at his arm, her blue eyes wide, gesturing behind him. "What?" Callahan asked in puzzlement. "I'm talkin' here."

She took him by the shoulders and turned him bodily around, toward his concerned questioner—and Callahan found himself face to face with Captain Jonathan Archer of the starship _Enterprise_, looking relaxed in civvies, but no less impressive.

"Holy shit—I mean—uh—hello, Captain Archer," Callahan spluttered. "Good to see ya again, sir." He finally shut his trap and stuck out his hand.

"You, too, Callahan." The captain shook his hand warmly. "Sorry to hear about the trouble you've been having."

Callahan shrugged it off. "Nothin' we can't handle." He gestured to Kyle. "You remember Kyle MacMillan, my barkeep."

Archer greeted her with a dazzling smile. "Indeed I do. How are you, Kyle?"

"Can't complain, sir," Kyle replied, returning his smile. He looked even better out of uniform, she noted. His forest-green shirt and slacks complemented his green eyes...not to mention the rest of him.

Concern darkened the captain's brow as he watched the workmen putting the finishing touches on the new windows. "Being on _Enterprise_, and being away, we didn't realize xenophobia was still such a problem here."

"Not a big problem," Kyle clarified. "Just an annoyingly stubborn one."

"Some people—they just need to hate, I guess," Callahan said with a resigned shrug. "I don't get it, though. Never will."

"Is that why you have this club?" Archer asked.

"I have this club because I love good jazz, Captain," Callahan grinned. "But yeah, it's why I spread the word after the Xindi attack, that aliens were welcome in my joint. I've always found tolerance and understanding to be a lot stronger than hate."

"You'll get no argument from me there," the captain agreed.

"So what can we do for ya?" Callahan offered.

"If you have a few minutes to spare, I have a favor to ask."

"Sure. C'mon inside."

- -

Once they had settled themselves at a table next to the quiet, empty dance floor, Kyle asked, "How are the Lovebirds?"

Archer looked puzzled, but intrigued. "Lovebirds?"

"Your pretty Karyn and her dashing Lorian," Callahan grinned. "We call 'em the Lovebirds on account of, we watched 'em fall in love here."

Archer smiled. "The Lovebirds are fine."

"We hardly see 'em at all, now that they're on _Columbia_," Callahan remarked wistfully. "The regulars really miss 'em out on the dance floor."

"As a matter of fact, they're the reason I'm here," the captain said. "They're getting married."

"Hot damn!" Callahan crowed.

Kyle just smiled knowingly. "Anybody who didn't see that coming would have to be blind."

"When's the big day?" Callahan asked.

"Today, actually." Archer glanced at his chronometer. "In three hours and thirty-two minutes, if everything comes together."

"You look amazingly calm, all things considered," Kyle remarked.

"It's not so much calm as it is controlled panic," Archer replied wryly. He folded his hands carefully on the table. "This scheme was dreamed up about half an hour ago."

"Holy crap," Callahan murmured.

Archer broke into a chuckle. "Exactly. I've got a hundred people on their way up to _Enterprise_ right now, by whatever means they can devise. I've got a maintenance crew emptying a cargo bay to make room for all the guests, most of whom will be scattering to the four winds at midnight tonight. I'm pretty sure we can pull off the ceremony...but I don't think the idea of a reception has occurred to anyone yet."

"Except you," Kyle smiled.

The captain shrugged, almost shyly. Kyle was struck by the contrast between his larger-than-life reputation—the Savior of Earth, the Conqueror of the Xindi—and the man himself, quiet and unassuming, simply wanting the best for his Karyn.

"Karyn is my family," he said, with obvious affection. "This is going to be a pretty crazy wedding day for her. I just want to do what I can to make sure it'll be a day she'll cherish."

"Why _Enterprise_?" Kyle asked curiously.

The captain smiled, a sweet little-boy smile of bashful delight. "They asked me to perform the ceremony."

Kyle sighed dreamily. "Aw, how sweet is that?" It was surprising, really, how _normal_ Archer was, when he had no battles to wage or history to forge. She found him tremendously appealing.

"You can see my dilemma," he went on. "So many people, so little notice. And anything we do would have to be low-key—we're trying _not_ to turn any heads." He looked to Callahan. "The first place—the _only_ place—I thought of for the reception was Callahan's. I know that's not possible, but I was hoping that, perhaps for an hour or two before you open for business tonight, we could gather everyone here for a toast? Maybe a wedding dance?"

Callahan held up a hand. "Say no more, Captain. The Lovebirds, they're kinda like our family too, y'know? I woulda been downright hurt if you hadn't come to me." He scanned the room, picturing what he could throw together in a few hours. "You bring everybody here, an' we'll have somethin' nice waitin' for ya. A little food, a little music, a little champagne—and some sparkling non-alcoholic stuff for the Vulcans...Kyle at the bar...dance floor... How's that sound?"

Archer beamed happily. "Perfect. It sounds absolutely perfect."

"Then consider it done."

They shook hands on it. "Oh..." Archer got a conspiratorial look in his eye. "I'd like it to be a surprise for the Lovebirds."

Callahan chuckled slyly. "You got it, Captain. We'll keep everything on the q.t. until you show up with 'em."

He and Kyle walked Archer to the door. As the captain stepped from the cool dimness of the club into the blinding midday sunshine, he said, "People should start trickling in at about five, I think. And honestly, we can be out of your hair by—"

"Captain." Callahan put his hands on his hips. "Willya stop worryin', already? You just get 'em all here. We'll take care of the rest. Even the clock-watching."

"Sorry." Archer ducked his head, duly scolded. Kyle thought he looked adorable.

"Now get outta here, sir," Callahan ordered, politely but firmly. "We both got work to do."

"Aye, sir," Archer replied smartly. He turned to Kyle, giving her another heart-stoppingly beautiful smile. "Good to see you again, Kyle."

"Likewise, sir," she smiled back.

"See you both tonight." Off he went, down the sidewalk.

Kyle's gaze lingered on him until he was swallowed up by the lunchtime crowd. "He's really something, isn't he, Boss?"

Callahan cocked his head at her. "You should be careful in this sun. It's makin' ya nutty."

"Wait. Are you..." She began to laugh. "I say something nice about the man, and you think I'm getting all goofy for him? You're the one who's been out in the sun too long."

Callahan relaxed as they went back inside. "Ya had me worried, the way you were lookin' at him."

She arched an eyebrow. "'Looking' at him?"

"Y'know...lookin'," Callahan said. "That look you get." Her cool stare didn't waver. Damn, but she could make him feel like a doof sometimes. "Look, I _know_ that look," he declared defensively. "I hardly ever see it—that's why I know it when I see it. The look that means you're _interested_."

Kyle headed toward the back. "I'm gonna go put the champagne on ice."

Callahan pounced. "You _are_ interested!"

She glanced sidelong at him as he followed her. "What do you think I am, dumb or something? Starship captains are married to their ships. Everybody knows that. You're not talking to some moony-eyed thing in her twenties here."

He frowned reproachfully at her as she detoured behind the bar to check the stock list. "No, I'm talkin' to a woman old enough to know that she shoulda landed herself a guy years ago."

She grabbed a data pad and stylus. "According to whose standards?"

"Must not be yours, since they're way too damn high." Callahan's voice softened. "You wanna be alone for the rest of your life?"

Kyle smiled at him. "I don't want to settle."

He fidgeted. "I'm just worried that one day you'll wake up with your biological alarm goin' off, and you'll see somebody like—like Archer. And you'll do somethin'..."

"Harebrained?" she asked with amusement.

Callahan shrugged. "He's a good man. An' I'm not talkin' about the hero stuff."

"Oh, you mean the charming, thoughtful, considerate, gorgeous stuff?" Kyle nodded. "Yeah, I know he's a good man. The kind a girl could fall head over heels for in a heartbeat."

He folded his arms. "Hence my worry."

Kyle patted his face. "You're sweet, Boss. But stop worrying. I won't do anything harebrained." She resumed her trek toward the back storeroom, jotting down ideas for hors d'oeuvres as she went.

"You never said you _weren't_ interested," he called after her.

She didn't look back. "You might want to call the band in early. Canned music is no way for a brand-new husband and wife to have their first dance."

"I'll do that." Callahan watched her thoughtfully for another moment, before he headed upstairs to his office to call the band.

-tbc-


	9. Get Ready, Get Set, Get Set, Get Set

**...Touching and Touched**

Disclaimer: _Star Trek:_ _Enterprise_ is the property of CBS/Paramount. All original material herein is the property of its author.

A/N: This chapter is for my dad.

* * *

Chapter 9: _Get Ready, Get Set, Get Set, Get Set..._

_Vulcan Embassy  
San Francisco, Earth_

Entering the grounds of the Vulcan Embassy was very much like leaving Starfleet: there was the now-requisite walk past Security and the small knot of xenophobes, who were being studiously ignored by all the Vulcans within earshot.

The big difference, though, was that Chuck felt as if he were entering hostile territory. Every Vulcan eye he met seemed cold, remote, haughty. He was about to give up and keep his eyes on the pathway when he realized the Vulcans were turning even more disapproving stares on Lorian, whom they clearly recognized.

That raised Chuck's hackles, just on principle. What did they have against the boy, anyway? From Trip's whirlwind introduction, Chuck understood that Lorian had a stellar record, had already been promoted—and he'd helped Jon win the war and save the whole universe, to boot. So what the hell...?

_Sonofabitch_. It must be because he was half-human. They were prejudiced against a half-human hybrid.

Chuck glanced out of the corner of his eye at Lorian. The calm, self-confident officer he'd met at Forrest's wake was more subdued now, avoiding the other Vulcans' searing stares. He looked self-conscious, and...well, a little hurt. It was startling to see emotion cross his features, even though Chuck knew he was as human as he was Vulcan.

Hold on—the Vulcans' snootily judgmental looks were suddenly dissolving into downcast glances of acquiescence. What was going on now? Surely they weren't cowed by a couple of humans and a half-breed. That left only...

Soval. The ambassador had directed his trademark scornful glare toward them—toward the _Vulcans._ It knocked Chuck for a loop, seeing Old Cranky's withering gaze turned on his own kind, rather than on humans. It proved even more effective, sending the abashed Vulcans scurrying away like scolded children, with nary a word needing to be spoken aloud.

Lorian looked more at ease after that. But Chuck was confused as all hell.

-- -- --

Soval's quarters were typically Spartan, much like T'Pol's quarters on _Enterprise_. Trip spotted a few decorations collected from the ambassador's thirty-odd years here, though, including an enormous conch shell nestled among the meditation candles, and a couple of watercolors of ocean scenes.

Trip studied the paintings. They weren't bad. "I thought Vulcans didn't care much for the ocean."

"That is true, to a large extent," Soval replied. "We are unaccustomed to it, the bodies of water on Vulcan being few and small. However, I find the sound of the waves conducive to clearing the mind. I sometimes meditate on the beach." He inclined his head politely. "Make yourselves comfortable. I shall not be long." He proceeded alone into the bedroom.

After he was gone, Chuck rolled his eyes. "Soval meditating on the beach," he muttered. "Seriously, can you picture that guy gettin' sand in his shoes? Draggin' the bottom of his pretty robe in the water?" He snickered.

Trip rubbed his eyes. This was already getting old, and they'd hardly even started. "Could you at least _try_ to consider the possibility that we're not all no-good stinking liars?"

"I never said _you_ were a liar," Chuck retorted, keeping his voice low. "I just think you're too willing to take things at face value because your judgment is...impaired."

Trip's eyebrows rose. "By what?"

"By something you _think_ is love. For someone whom you _think_ is capable of love."

Trip threw up his hands. "Now I know why Mom never argues with you. It's like talkin' to a brick wall." He hooked a thumb at Lorian. "I suppose I'm making him up, too?"

Lorian blinked in bemusement, but remained silent.

"That's different," Chuck shot back. "His parents were different. They didn't have Starfleet or the VHC breathin' down their necks. Didn't you tell me when _Enterprise_ first launched that T'Pol was some kind of spy?"

Leave it to Dad to remember something like that. "Well, she's not," Trip hissed. "And Starfleet thinks T'Pol hung the moon, I'll have you know. Besides, the VHC doesn't even exist any more."

"So _you_ say."

"Dammit, Dad, haven't you heard a word I've said?!"

"May I suggest this conversation be continued out of range of Vulcan hearing?" Lorian put in delicately.

In the same soft growl he'd been using, Trip continued, "Aw, Soval doesn't care. Do you, Soval?"

The old Vulcan's voice drifted in from the bedroom. "Not at all, Commander."

Chuck clammed up, staring daggers at Trip.

Soval emerged from the bedroom, pointedly ignoring the strained silence and choosing to act as if the Tuckers' argument had not taken place. He set a small, beautifully carved wooden chest before his guests. "Vulcans typically prefer attire that is utilitarian in color. Festive hues are seldom worn, as there is little logic to them. However, on ceremonial occasions, they prove quite arresting, and add a certain significance to the proceedings."

He opened the chest. Inside, neatly folded, were Vulcan robes in a color Trip had never seen before: ivory. The finely-woven fabric was hand-embroidered with intricate Vulcan script and patterns along the borders, in silken thread of ivory and pale blue.

"I've never seen anything like them," Trip marveled. "I've hardly ever seen blue on your planet at all."

"It is found in certain mineral deposits...and in eye color." Soval nodded toward Lorian. "But both occur rarely."

Chuck's practiced carpenter's eye told him that the wooden chest was easily a century old. "Are they as old as this chest?"

"They are older than Lorian," Soval confirmed. He carefully took the robes from the chest. Along with the jacket and slacks, there was a floor-length outer ceremonial robe of ivory brocade, also delicately embroidered with pale blue thread.

Lorian was mesmerized by the robes. "The workmanship is exquisite. They are handmade, are they not?"

Soval nodded, his voice soft with affection. "My wife fashioned them herself." He had a faraway look in his eyes as he absently stroked the finery in his hands, almost a caress. "These were my wedding robes."

Trip recognized that look. He'd seen it a few weeks ago, when Soval had spoken of his wife while explaining the mating bond. There had been unmistakable tenderness in his eyes and voice then, as now, even though he'd lost her over thirty years ago. The two of them must have shared an extraordinarily close, deep bond.

"Why did she choose blue?" Trip asked.

"Her eyes were blue." Soval fingered the embroidered hem of the jacket. "Pale, like this...of uncommon rarity and beauty. She knew they were a feature I considered especially agreeable. Her wedding robes were the same color."

Chuck watched in stunned silence. Soval, an archetype of Vulcanness, the very quintessence of...of Vulchritude...sentimental enough to keep a remembrance of his dead wife? Getting all misty over their wedding day? It didn't make any sense. Compared to what Chuck had seen of Soval over the years, and all the horror stories he'd heard—especially from Trip and Jon—this man seemed like a completely different...

_Wait. Wait just a goddamned minute_. It just wasn't possible.

Soval held the jacket out for Lorian. Hesitantly, the younger man slipped it on over his uniform. Amazingly, the jacket fit well. "Remarkable," Soval observed. "As if it were made for you."

"Wait till Karyn sees you." Trip grinned with fatherly pride. "You look good."

"Do I?" Lorian ran his fingers lightly down the finely embroidered cloth with a little smile. Then he frowned faintly with consternation as he noticed the length of the sleeves. "The ambassador's arms are longer than mine, I'm afraid."

"Catherine can hem those in a jiffy," Chuck said. "She's a seamstress."

"Come." Soval led Lorian over to a decorative mirror set into the far wall. As Lorian caught sight of his reflection, he drew in a silent breath of wonder.

As Chuck and Trip observed the two Vulcans from across the room, Chuck remarked, "I couldn't help noticing on the way in...the Vulcans don't think much of Lorian, do they?"

Trip snorted derisively. "The VHC refused to acknowledge his existence. Even after being presented with a mountain of irrefutable evidence."

"Why?"

"Simple," Trip said. "To accept Lorian is to accept the existence of time travel—which, according to the Vulcan Science Directorate, is not possible."

A slow smile spread on Chuck's face. "You're tellin' me that he's thrown a monkey wrench into Vulcan scientific dogma?" He chuckled with satisfaction. "That's rich."

Trip watched pensively as Soval fastened the collar on Lorian's jacket. "There's a downside, though. He'll probably be treated like a freak by most Vulcans...the result of an 'unnatural' union."

Chuck figured as much, after what he'd seen outside. "Because he's half-human."

"Because he's the _first_ half-human. Vulcans and humans can't interbreed naturally."

"Then how...?"

"Effort," Trip replied. "Sixteen years of experimentation, genetic manipulation...and failed attempts."

Chuck sobered. "Miscarriages?"

Trip nodded. "Three. And they had a little girl who lived only a few weeks."

Chuck felt an old, familiar heartache come flaring to life. So this other Trip and T'Pol had suffered the same terrible loss that he and Catherine had. It all happened over a century ago, dozens of light-years away, but it was feeling more and more real to him. He was even beginning to think of the other Trip as some kind of long-lost son.

"I read the medical logs of the other _Enterprise_," Trip murmured. "It was awful, what they went through. Even the pregnancy with Lorian was rough. His mother almost died in childbirth. I think it's a miracle that he lived at all."

As Soval gathered up the brocade outer robe and carefully helped Lorian into it, Chuck found himself looking at Lorian through the eyes of his birth-parents, who had willingly endured such heartbreak and loss, so determined were they to have this boy to love.

Trip's voice was soft. "Back in May, when Lorian turned up...T'Pol was married. We thought we'd never be together. We'd become best friends an' all, but...it still felt as if we were trapped in a nightmare we'd never wake up from." He nodded toward Lorian. "Then getting him back alive, when we thought we'd lost him...he was all that was left of what might have been. It meant so much..." Trip felt his throat tightening with emotion. The memories were still so vivid.

"You kept this to yourself, all of this," Chuck said quietly. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Trip sighed. "It was such a mess. The arranged marriage...neither one of us telling each other how we really felt, because we didn't want to make it harder. You couldn't have done anything."

"We could have listened."

Trip smiled wryly. "And when I got to the part about suddenly having a son sixty-five years older than me, with a wife I never married, in a life I didn't live?"

Chuck chewed his lip, then nodded. "You're right. That part would've sounded nuts no matter when you told us."

The two humans fell silent, watching as Soval adjusted the drape of the outer robe around Lorian's shoulders. The wedding robes transformed him, giving him the elegant appearance of a classic Vulcan. The striking ivory and blue colors, and the rich brocade, added a touch of dreamlike enchantment to the tableau. He looked magnificent.

"Look at him, Dad," Trip said with quiet admiration. "That fine-looking man is my son. He's brilliant, and brave, and funny, and shy. He's so in love with Karyn, he can't even see straight. He's the best of me and T'Pol. He pulled us out of that nightmare and gave us hope, when we didn't have any. He changed everything for us." Trip smiled warmly as he watched Lorian gazing at his reflection with a kind of awe, as if he didn't quite believe what he was seeing. "Having him here...it's like a gift."

Chuck nodded, looking from Trip to...to Trip's son, Lorian. "I see that." And he really did.

* * *

_NX-02 Columbia  
Spacedock, orbiting Earth_

Karyn, T'Pol, and Catherine emerged from the airlock to find Captain Hernandez waiting for them. "So when were you going to tell me you were getting married in three hours?"

Surprised, Karyn stammered, "Um—now, ma'am." She indicated her companions. "You know Commander T'Pol. And this is Commander Tucker's mother, Catherine Tucker."

Hernandez nodded to each of them. "Commander. And I'm glad to meet you, Mrs. Tucker."

Karyn was still a bit nonplussed. "How did you know, ma'am?"

"I'm the captain," Hernandez replied, with a knowing little smile. Then she shrugged. "And..._Enterprise's_ Chief Quartermaster called our Chief Quartermaster, looking for some supplies. He spilled the beans."

Now Karyn was curious. "What kind of supplies?"

"I'm not telling," Hernandez said primly. "Find out at the ceremony."

"You'll be there?"

The captain grinned. "You bet."

-- -- --

Karyn ushered Catherine and T'Pol into the quarters she shared with Lorian. The two women took immediate notice of the double bed extending out of the alcove where Lorian's narrow bunk used to be.

"The captain's early wedding present," Karyn explained with amusement. "She snuck it in here a few days ago, while we were both on duty. She must have had Carpentry custom-build it to fit in there. I think she's rather been enjoying this whole marriage adventure of ours."

She crossed to her section of the quarters and started rummaging in the closet. "On our ship, space was always at a premium. No one ever had the luxury of a lot of possessions, but since we were a generational ship, family keepsakes were important."

She emerged from the closet with a boxy storage case. It was Starfleet issue, but scorched and pockmarked, and very old. "One cargo bay was set aside to store everyone's family remembrances...whatever each crew member wanted to be able to hand down to their descendants."

She sat on the big bed, settling the old storage case on her lap, and beckoned T'Pol and Catherine to join her. "When the Kovaalans attacked, we lost most of what was in that cargo bay. When we arrived here, and the ship fell apart, we lost pretty much all that was left. Spacedock workers snagged a few things, though...and this was one of them." She stroked the case's pitted surface lightly, almost reverently. "Herein lies the collected memories of the _Enterprise_ Archers. I'm the keeper of the legacy."

Catherine and T'Pol both regarded the case with interest. "I've only looked through it once," Karyn continued. "Eight years ago, when I put some of my parents' things in it."

Catherine's face filled with sympathy. "Your parents...? You lost them?"

Karyn nodded. "They were on an away mission together."

Catherine took the younger woman's hand. "Oh, child, I'm sorry." She was staggered by the hardships this other _Enterprise_ crew had endured. Stranded in another time, cut off from everyone and everything they knew, burdened with a mission to save Earth from destruction, _if_ they survived long enough...and all the while, suffering horrific losses like this one. "How did you get through it?"

"Lorian," Karyn said serenely. "He was my captain then, and I was his junior helm officer. He was the only one who understood what I was going through. He put me to work—gave me my dad's job at the helm. He kept me busy, kept me company, let me talk, let me mope, let me cry...and he grieved with me. Mom and Dad meant a lot to him, too."

Catherine felt tears welling in her eyes as she listened. "So we helped each other," Karyn went on. "That's when we stopped being captain and crewmember, and became friends." She smiled, transforming in an instant from mature-beyond-her-years survivor to lovestruck bride-to-be. "He was wonderful."

"Is that when you started...y'know...having feelings for him?" Catherine asked.

Karyn's eyes danced. "Oh, no. I'd been secretly in love with him since I was nine years old."

"Nine?" Catherine couldn't help but laugh. "These Tucker men of ours," she said, blinking away her tears. "They're irresistible, aren't they?"

"That they are," Karyn agreed.

"Indeed," T'Pol concurred.

Karyn turned her attention to the storage case once more. As she undid the latches, she felt tears behind her own eyes. She didn't realize she would get this emotional. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, the way Lorian had taught her...and opened the case.

Inside, nestled within a lining of protective foam, was a neatly packed collection of items, efficiently wedged into the limited space of the storage case...boxes, wrapped parcels, padds, a few framed pictures, some papers. The legacy of four generations.

Karyn took out a small stack of items on top. "These belonged to my parents. Commendations from Captain Lorian, pictures, some personal papers...and these." She opened a small velvet pouch, and two wedding bands spilled into her hand. The smaller ring was delicate gold filigree. The larger ring, at first glance, looked like white gold...but as Karyn held it up to the light, the silvery metal reflected an iridescent rainbow of colors, like light through a prism.

"Would you look at that," Catherine breathed.

"Remarkable," T'Pol said as she studied the play of colors.

"It's Ikaaran songstone," Karyn said. "The rarest element on Ikaar. Esilia gave this wedding band to her Jonathan. He passed it down to his son Henry, who gave it to his son...my father." She looked up at T'Pol and Catherine. "I thought this might make a good wedding ring for Lorian."

Both women nodded their approval. "It's perfect," Catherine smiled.

Karyn fingered the wedding band, shutting her eyes as a lifetime of memories rose up around her, filling her senses. Holding onto Daddy as she learned to walk, her tiny hand barely able to close around one of his fingers...watching the rainbow glint of his wedding band as he turned the pages of the storybook he was reading to her...matching the movements of her hand to his as she practiced working the helm controls in the simulator...taking off his ring, and Mom's, as she laid them to rest, side by side, in the torpedo tube before the funeral service.

She heard Catherine's soft voice. "Seems like only yesterday, doesn't it?"

Karyn opened her eyes, freeing tears that she hadn't realized were brimming within. Both Catherine and T'Pol's expressions reflected the understanding that only comes with shared loss. "For you, too?" she murmured.

"I thought it might be different in the new house," Catherine said quietly. "But I still think I hear Lizzie sometimes. I'm turning and looking for her before I remember that she's gone."

"I, too, miss my mother, though for much of my life I did not expect to," T'Pol confessed. "Trip told me that my reaction is a reflection of the closeness we shared on her last day."

"The price we pay for loving people is to miss them when they're gone." Karyn slipped the wedding band onto her thumb, then picked up a framed picture from where it lay atop the stack of her parents' papers. "Here's Mom and Daddy."

T'Pol and Catherine looked at the picture. A blond man with a touch of Jon's boyish good looks and strong jawline, along with Karyn's Ikaaran ridges on his forehead, stood in the casually affectionate embrace of a lovely ebony-haired Asian woman who bore a close resemblance to Karyn.

Karyn's voice was warm with remembrance. "My mother Olivia was the ship's xenobiologist, and my father was Chief Helm Officer." She smiled at Catherine. "He was named Charles, after your son. Everybody called him Charlie."

Catherine was charmed. "He looks like a Charlie." She glanced back at the stack of papers, in search of more pictures...but the top page caught her eye. It looked like parchment, with verses in handwritten calligraphy: _We have come together, in the presence of family, surrounded by love, to celebrate your vows of marriage..._ She picked up the paper. "Are these your parents' wedding vows?"

Karyn smiled at the parchment in surprise. "I'd forgotten that was in here! Yes. My parents wrote them. There's Ikaaran folklore imagery in there, and human vows, all mixed together."

Catherine was reading through the verses. "These are lovely."

She passed the parchment to T'Pol, who scanned it and nodded. "Quite appropriate to the occasion." She handed it to Karyn. "Have you considered using these vows for your own wedding?"

"Actually, I hadn't..." A smile blossomed on Karyn's face as she read the vows. "These take on a whole new meaning, now that I'm getting married myself in a few hours."

"Does Lorian know about them?" Catherine asked.

"He's the one who married my parents," Karyn replied. "He'll recognize them as soon as he hears them." She giggled impishly. "But he doesn't need to know until then."

Catherine set the parchment aside. "We'll make sure Jon gets them. They can be your Something Borrowed."

T'Pol frowned in puzzlement. "Something borrowed?"

"It's a human tradition," Karyn explained. "On her wedding day, the bride needs 'Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, and Something Blue'."

"Why?"

Catherine laughed. "You sound like Lorian."

"You must admit, Catherine, that some human traditions are so far removed from the circumstances that compelled their creation that they are inexplicable."

Catherine smiled playfully at her. "Surely there must be a few Vulcan traditions you find equally silly. Such as...oh, I don't know...arranged marriages?"

T'Pol nodded. "I concede your point."

Karyn was back in the storage case, carefully working her way to the bottom. Finally she came to a flat, rectangular box. As she pulled it out, she said, "This can be my Something Blue...if it fits." She opened the box and lifted out a dress...or was it a creation spun by fairies in an enchanted forest? Shimmering opalescent ice-blue fabric, plaited together at the form-fitting bodice, billowed out at the waist into a full skirt. And with it, a translucent veil of lustrous ice-blue, fluttering like gossamer from a circlet of silver.

Catherine was almost speechless. "It's stunning. Is it Ikaaran?"

Karyn nodded as she laid the dress out on the bed. "Esilia wore it when she married Papa."

"An exquisite choice," T'Pol said softly as she admired the dress.

"This definitely qualifies as your Something Blue," Catherine said. "And your Something Old. All you need now is Something New."

Karyn chuckled. "I'm fourth-generation Expanse _Enterprise_. None of us _ever_ had anything new." She smoothed out the iridescent fabric of the dress...her wedding dress. It was more beautiful than she remembered. "Do you think it'll fit?"

"Don't you worry, child," Catherine clucked confidently. "I've been a seamstress all my life. I'll make _sure_ it fits." She examined the dress with a critical eye. "Those Ikaaran designers were sharp. Look here—the sides lace up. And in the back, here. That means we can adjust it to fit you."

"Good." Karyn let out a happy sigh of relief.

"Now, the length...let's see. T'Pol, lend me a hand here..." As T'Pol held the dress up to Karyn, Catherine checked the hemline. "It looks like your great-grandma was a tad shorter than you, if anything," she judged. "I think we'll be fine."

Karyn caught a look at her reflection in the viewport, with T'Pol still holding the dress up to her, and she gasped softly. "It's like something out of a fairy tale."

T'Pol regarded Karyn's striking reflection. "I begin to understand this custom of forbidding the groom to see the bride before the ceremony."

Catherine rose, standing on Karyn's other side, and admired the view. "I can't wait to see the look on Lorian's face when he sees you in this."

Karyn couldn't take her eyes off the shimmering image in the viewport, couldn't keep the smile off her face. This was really happening. In less than three hours, she would be marrying the love of her life.

Catherine knew it would take a little getting used to, having a Vulcan daughter-in-law and a hundred-year-old grandson. But she had found Karyn immediately appealing. Was it her calm, take-charge attitude? Or maybe it was the way she had with Tucker men. Catherine had seen how Trip doted on her. Lorian obviously adored her. Even Chuck seemed to take a shine to her.

Perhaps it was because her sunny sweetness reminded Catherine of Elizabeth. The ready smile, the shy giggle...even when Lizzie was an accomplished architect of twenty-eight, her girlish charm hadn't left her. Not that anyone could ever replace her...but knowing Karyn was family, knowing Catherine would watch her marry, excel at her career, perhaps have a family, and all the while be so loved...it seem to make up, just the tiniest bit, for not being able to see Lizzie do the same things.

Catherine turned back toward the viewport. They all gazed at Karyn's dreamlike reflection, crowned by an infinity of stars in the velvety blackness of space...a fairy-tale princess in shimmering ice-blue, preparing to be wed to her charming prince.

Catherine took a step back and regarded the two of them...stunningly beautiful T'Pol, the epitome of Vulcan composure, who nevertheless cherished Trip enough to pledge her life to his...and kind, spirited Karyn, who had coaxed Jon from his troubled solitude and captured Lorian's heart. The three of them couldn't be more different, but they were family now, in all but name. Catherine found that she was warming to the idea.

-tbc-


	10. Gifts

**...Touching and Touched**

Disclaimer: _Star Trek: Enterprise_ is the property of CBS/Paramount. All original material herein is the property of its author.

A/N: Thanks to pookha for her marvelous attention to detail, and for her inspirational musings about the crew of the good ship _Enterprise_.

Note: I named a character in this chapter after a character in "The Great Escape," one of my dad's favorite films.

* * *

Chapter 10: _Gifts_

_NX-02 Columbia  
Spacedock, orbiting Earth_

Lorian keyed open the door to his quarters, but Trip stepped in front of him before he could enter. "You'd better let me have a look first and make sure the coast is clear."

Lorian looked blankly at him. Trip translated, "Make sure Karyn's not in there."

Lorian's face lit with comprehension. "Understood."

Trip ventured inside. The quarters were empty...and really spacious, he noted with interest. All they did was knock out the bulkhead between two cabins? Plenty of room for a double bed too, he saw with a grin. He began examining the bulkhead, mentally taking measurements—

"How long does it take to search one room for three women?" came Chuck's voice from the corridor.

"Sorry," Trip said, waving the others inside. "All clear." Chuck, Lorian, and Soval entered, Soval acting as custodian for the wooden chest with the Vulcan wedding robes.

Lorian crossed to his dresser and pulled a small jewelry box from a drawer. "Father, I've brought you here to ask a question." He opened the box. Inside, nestled on a bed of velvet, were matching gold wedding bands. "These are my parents' wedding rings."

The sight of T'Pol's wedding band hit Trip surprisingly hard. He remembered sitting with Lorian at old T'Pol's bedside in her final hours, holding her hand as he whispered to her of his forever-love...seeing the gold wedding band on her finger, its soft gleam blurred by his tears.

"I thought to give my mother's ring to Karyn," Lorian said, "but I'm not certain it's mine to give." He looked up at Trip. "You and Mother will be marrying soon. Perhaps you wish to have the rings your counterparts wore."

It only took a moment for Trip to know how to reply. "These rings are part of your life, Lorian—your memories of your birth parents. They belong to you." He picked up T'Pol's ring, feeling the memories wash over him again as he placed it in Lorian's hand. "If you want this to be Karyn's wedding ring, you have my blessing."

Lorian gazed at the gold band cradled in his palm. "Then I shall give my mother's ring to...my bride..." He paused, suddenly overcome by emotion. "Forgive me," he whispered.

Trip moved instinctively toward his son. To his surprise, Chuck beat him there, putting his callused hand gently on Lorian's shoulder. "Nothing to apologize for, son," he said. "The day I married your grandma, I found myself gettin' choked up more times than I could count. We Tuckers are a romantic bunch."

Lorian managed a faint, bashful smile as he recovered his composure. "So Karyn continues to claim about me."

"Spunky _and_ perceptive," Chuck laughed. "This gal is just gettin' better and better."

Trip stood back and watched the two of them, enthralled. It was nothing short of magical.

Soval observed the interaction between the elder Tucker and young Lorian with fascination. He would never cease to be amazed by the extraordinary adaptability of humans to unexpected circumstances, given sufficient motivation.

Lorian secured the wedding band safely in a pocket of his uniform. "I have long been adept at maintaining a balance between emotion and logic, but I am finding balance quite impossible today."

"It's your wedding day, Lorian," Trip said with a smile. "For humans, it's one of the most emotional days of their lives."

"Not only for humans," Lorian replied. "My mother spoke with much fondness of her own wedding day." His voice softened. "Especially after you were killed."

Chuck felt a sudden stab of pain deep in his gut. He looked from Lorian to Trip in confusion. "Killed?"

Lorian glanced at Trip as well, before answering Chuck. "My birth father, the other Charles Tucker III, died when I was still a child."

The pain flared up like fire, choking off Chuck's voice and breath, scalding his already-scarred heart. It was horrifyingly reminiscent of the moment he and Catherine had gotten their first look at that trench in Florida and realized that Elizabeth was really gone. He stared at Trip...alive, solid and strong...and beside him, Lorian, whose downcast blue eyes were shadowed by a sorrow grown fainter with age, but never completely forgotten.

Lorian had lost his father, and Chuck felt as though he'd just lost a son. Quietly, he said, "I'm sorry, Lorian." It was the first time he had called the boy by name.

Trip put a hand on Lorian's arm, giving it a comforting squeeze. Lorian placed his own hand over Trip's, the touch brief but conveying a wealth of meaning. When he turned to Chuck again, his expression was more peaceful. "For eighty-seven years, all I had were a child's memories of my father. To be with him again now is a gift beyond measure."

Despite the heartache he still felt, Chuck found himself smiling a little. Trip had said almost the same thing about Lorian.

_A gift._

Whatever else Chuck might think of this mind-boggling situation, he knew that when Trip and Lorian had found each other again, something had been set right.

* * *

_NX-01 Enterprise  
Orbiting Earth_

Lieutenant Robert Hendley prided himself on being the best scrounger in Starfleet. That's why Captain Archer had hand-picked him to be Chief Quartermaster for _Enterprise_. If it needed to be found or fashioned, Hendley and his people would figure a way to do it.

Hendley was going the extra kilometer for his latest assignment. After all, it wasn't every day the captain's great-granddaughter was getting married to Commander Tucker's son. Hendley's crew had done pretty well, the last two hours, to transform Cargo Bay Two into a proper venue for a wedding, after Maintenance had cleared it out. Scaffolding and bolts of some real nice silk—traded for something or other last year while they were in the Expanse—concealed the dull gray walls. Benches had been whipped up by Carpentry for anyone who needed to sit, and a raised dais and podium had been borrowed from a conference room for the wedding party. There was a nice length of carpeting for the center aisle, for the bride to make her entrance. Lieutenant Sato had supplied music from the archives to pipe in during the ceremony.

Outside the ship, Hendley had a shuttlepod directing traffic, escorting visiting ships to the airlock to debark their passengers, then to the launch bay till after the wedding. And he had Maintenance rig a couple of tow lines for that big-ass cargo shuttle that wouldn't fit.

The idea of a shipwide feed didn't cross his mind until that contingent from engineering showed up and pretty much insisted on it. A skeleton crew would need to stay on duty, and they _had_ to see the ceremony, no ifs ands or buts. The group from engineering even volunteered to help set everything up. Then Hendley got the notion of hooking up a feed through the security system, for anybody who was stuck on duty but wanted to watch. He had to put in an emergency call to the Chief Quartermaster on _Columbia_ for a bunch of A429B's, since Repair hadn't gotten to all the fried circuitry that had been blown out by the attacking Vulcan ships. Hendley loved shiny new ships three months overdue for launch—they had a lot of surplus _everything_.

Then there were the deliveries to the staging areas for each half of the Happy Couple—on opposite sides of E-Deck, natch. Full-length mirrors for primping, thread for last-minute alterations—evidently Commander Tucker's mother was quite the seamstress. The bride was on site when Hendley personally delivered an assortment of thread to Commander T'Pol's quarters, hoping to catch a glimpse of Lieutenant Archer in her wedding gown. Unfortunately, T'Pol was an unbreachable rampart defending the door against all comers. Hendley would have to wait and see the bride with everybody else. But he did learn what color the gown was, on account of the shade of blue thread Mrs. Tucker picked out.

For flowers, Hendley had his second, Fuller, get hold of her connection at the wholesale flower district, while he arranged with Lt. Commander Reed for a quick transport of flowerage up to the ship. But it looked as though someone had gotten their comm signals crossed when Hendley started receiving confirmations of _cancellations_ of orders for flowers.

He called Fuller. "Something screwy is going on with the flowers."

"Nope, no problem, Boss," she answered. "Turns out we don't need any flowers, that's all."

"A wedding with no flowers? You feeling all right, Janette?"

"I didn't say there wouldn't _be_ any flowers," Fuller answered patiently. "Come to the cargo bay. You'll see."

Hendley double-timed it to Cargo Bay Two—and found the cavernous bay _heaped_ with flowers. Tons of 'em. Also ribbons and other foofoo to prettify the place. It smelled wonderful.

The flower source turned out to be the guests—the crew from _E²_. They'd all been giftless, the wedding being impromptu and all, and they'd hit on the idea to raid a bunch of flower shops on the way to their shuttles. About seventy people had arrived so far, and more were coming in, each one with another armload of fresh blooms.

Hendley was impressed. He made 'em all honorary scroungers on the spot.

Fuller joined him. "Everything else on the list is checked off, Boss," she said.

"Great," Hendley nodded. "All we have to worry about now is seating the guests and arranging a shitload of flowers."

"I saw that 'reception' is _not_ on the list," Fuller noted. "I am confused. And my sweetie is downright wounded."

Hendley shrugged. "The captain called and said he'd made other arrangements. It's probably some favorite hangout of the Happy Couple. Tell Chef not to take it personally."

Fuller raised an eyebrow. "Not take it personally? Are we talking about the same man here?"

"Sorry. I must have lost my mind for a moment."

"I shall endeavor to console him, if at all possible."

Hendley brightened. "I'll tell you what he can do for me. There's a bunch of kids here who are bound to get antsy. If Chef could whip up some snacks and drinks..."

Fuller grinned. "You got it, Boss."

"And we'll need a runner to the Observation Lounge, for head breaks," he added. She nodded and took off.

Hendley set Erikkson, Gaston, and Kamal to work arranging flowers along the ends of the rows of benches. Then he took stock of the decorative ribbons and laces piled on a bench in back. There—a roll of velvet ribbon in just the right shade of light blue, same as the thread he'd delivered. He perused the vast collection of flowers, finding a big bunch of blue irises, and adding baby's breath and fern. Then he happily set about making bridal bouquets.

* * *

Phlox was halfway up the access hatch, just having captured his errant Pyrithian bat, when he heard the doors to sickbay slide open. A mellifluous baritone voice intoned politely, "Doctor? Am I disturbing you?"

"Lorian! Let me just...sorry, both my hands are full." Carefully, Phlox tucked the bat against his chest and clambered back down the ladder to solid decking, where Lorian was waiting. "I understand congratulations are in order."

"Thank you," Lorian replied. "Karyn and I were planning on speaking with you together, but I am forbidden to see her before the wedding. Some unfathomable human tradition."

Phlox secured his bat in her cage. "Ah, yes. To avoid bad luck. Or perhaps simply to...increase anticipation, hmm?" He turned his full attention on Lorian. "What can I do for you?"

"Are you aware that my parents plan to marry?"

Phlox smiled. "Yes. They informed me of a number of things after Commander Tucker had his accident several days ago, as a result of being bonded with Commander T'Pol."

Lorian nodded. "We do not know when they will marry—they are awaiting clearance from the Vulcan Social Ministry. In the meantime, Karyn and I are planning a gift for them. We have taken the liberty of including you and your expertise in its fashioning."

"I'd be delighted to contribute," Phlox said brightly. "What is your gift?"

"A perfected process for safe Vulcan/human genome pairing."

Phlox beamed. "Outstanding! Now that they are a couple, we certainly have renewed motivation to improve on my counterpart's well-intentioned but limited and flawed methods." He paused, a frown creasing his features. "Even with Starfleet and Denobulan resources at my disposal, it may be years before I refine the process to the point where it is safe."

"Not necessarily." Lorian pulled an envelope from his uniform pocket and handed it to the doctor. "We have secured the assistance of a clandestine research partner in this endeavor."

Intrigued, Phlox opened the envelope. Inside he found authorization to enter the Top Security wing of Starfleet's incarceration facility. He was confused...until he realized. "Arik Soong?" Lorian nodded. Phlox stared at him in amazement. "How did you acquire this?"

"We requested it," Lorian replied simply.

Phlox shook his head admiringly. "If you had any lingering doubts as to Starfleet's regard for you, this should put them all to rest."

Lorian allowed himself a small smile before continuing. "Karyn and I were permitted to show Dr. Soong your counterpart's research logs detailing his experimentation, and his failures, before my eventual conception and birth. When we asked if it was possible for you to improve on the research now, he readily agreed that you could...and he invited you to visit him at any time to present your ideas for his 'feedback'."

Phlox chuckled. "He fell for it. Brilliant, Commander."

Lorian inclined his head in thanks. "You will not be permitted to take any written documentation from his cell, of course. But if you were to make regular visits, and devise some sort of code for information exchange..."

Phlox smirked. "He's probably got it all worked out already." Then he grew serious. "Do you trust him?"

It was a relevant question, one that Lorian had asked himself many times since his and Karyn's initial meeting with Soong. "This project is a matter of pride for him," he replied. "Also, he indicated that, from the perspective of a parent who had lost children, he wished to improve my parents' odds for success." Wryly, he added, "In addition, we have been plying his voracious curiosity with tales of the Expanse."

"I assume he finds you fascinating."

"He finds Karyn more so," Lorian replied dryly.

Phlox smiled again. "I'll be sure to pay him a visit soon, so we can get our secret code straight."

"Thank you." Lorian brightened hopefully. "And if you are free at fifteen hundred hours today..."

"I'll be there," Phlox responded enthusiastically. "We Denobulans are quite fond of weddings."

* * *

T'Pol and Catherine finished tying the shimmering blue lacings that ran down each side of the dress's plaited bodice. "Okay, hon," Catherine said. "Take a look."

With a nervous smile, Karyn turned to face the mirror. The sight made her blush. There was so much..._skin_ showing. It wasn't indecent or anything; the wedding dress was beautifully designed. But there was a good two-inch gap on each side of the form-fitting bodice where it laced together. Her bare skin was covered only by the criss-crossed blue lacing, all the way down to her hips, where the full skirt burst forth. "Esilia must have been a lot more slender than me."

"It would appear that the dress was designed to be worn in this manner," T'Pol assessed. She indicated the bodice's plunging front and back necklines, also held in place by open latticeworks of lacing, which afforded tantalizing views of Karyn's bosom and delicate spinal ridges. "The current configuration seems an appropriately deliberate echo of the design."

Karyn turned this way and that, studying herself in the mirror. The opalescent fabric clung to her like a second skin, whisper-soft, lighter than air. "It feels as if I'm not even wearing anything."

Catherine glanced at the dress's cutaway views of Karyn's bare hips. "That's 'cause you're _not_. You'll have Soval beatin' all the men off with a stick as he walks you down that aisle."

T'Pol arched an eyebrow at Catherine in gentle reproach, but Karyn had no such cool self-control. She could already feel her cheeks getting hot. She covered them with her hands, unable to stop a squeal of embarrassed laughter. "Catherine—!"

Catherine grinned sheepishly. "Aw, I've stuck my foot in it again." She put an arm around Karyn. "Sorry. I blurt before I think sometimes."

Karyn shook her head as her blush began to fade. "It's all right. It's just..." She ventured a glance at Catherine. "You're not anything like my other grandmothers."

Catherine laughed heartily. "I'll bet!"

Karyn smiled as fond images from her childhood drifted past her mind's eye. "My father's mother, Madisen—she was all about lap cuddles, and family recipes, and bedtime stories. And my mother's mother, Tamlyn...I mostly remember her being quiet and contemplative." She cocked her head at Catherine. "But you..."

"I'm forthright," Catherine declared. "Or as Chuck would say, shameless."

"Direct." Karyn took the older woman's hand. "My parents would have liked you."

Catherine gave Karyn's hand an affectionate squeeze. Then she knelt down and started fussing with the wedding gown's skirt. "Let me check the hem on this masterpiece."

"Were your parents aware of your romantic attachment to Lorian?" T'Pol asked Karyn.

"I thought it was my best-kept secret," Karyn replied wryly. "But my mother finally clued me in that she'd figured it out. And that she approved." She absently fingered the lacing on the front of her dress, as she remembered the last day she was with her parents...Mom's Cheshire-cat smile about Captain Lorian, and Daddy's musical laughter as he teased her about taking over his job while he was away. "My dad...I don't know. I hope he knew." She shook her head faintly. "Now I wish I'd told them everything. But back then, it would have just sounded like a silly teenager's fancy."

Catherine got to her feet. "The length looks good. You're done."

Karyn beamed happily at Catherine and T'Pol. "All I need now is for fifteen hundred hours to get here."

"We have nearly an hour to wait before the ceremony," T'Pol said. "If you would prefer to remove the dress until—"

"No," Karyn interjected quickly. After waiting her whole life to be wearing her wedding dress? She never wanted to take it off. Well, not until Lorian took it off... "I'm fine."

The door chimed. T'Pol opened it, prepared to ward off any would-be interloper—but it was Chuck. His nod to her was a little self-conscious, Karyn noticed. "I'm lookin' for my wife."

Catherine fairly dragged him into the cabin. "Honey, I have so much to tell you! Karyn's been in love with Lorian since she was a little girl, but never told him—isn't that sweet? And on their ship, they told the kids bedtime stories about how Trip and T'Pol fell in love!—"

Chuck took her shoulders. "Slow down, Cath. You're overloadin' my brain here." Catherine subsided, with an effort. Chuck had a smile on his face, but Karyn thought it looked forced, even a little sad.

_He knows_, she realized. _Lorian must have told him about losing his father._

"I came here to tell you," Chuck continued to his wife, "Lorian needs you to hem the sleeves of his..." He trailed off as he caught sight of Karyn. "My _God_."

Karyn looked down shyly. Chuck took her hands and simply admired her for a long moment. At last he said, "You're a picture, darlin'."

Karyn wondered if she was ever going to stop blushing today. "Thank you."

Catherine gently but firmly hooked her arm through her husband's. "If you're through ogling the bride, we need to go get the groom squared away."

"I must speak with Trip as well," T'Pol said. "I shall return shortly, Karyn."

"Wait, now," Chuck objected. "You're not gonna leave Karyn alone, are you?"

"Go." Karyn waved them toward the door with T'Pol. "You two have catching up to do. Shoo."

The trio headed out. A moment later, in the corridor outside, Karyn heard her great-grandfather's voice, exchanging greetings with Chuck and Catherine. Karyn felt a nervous flutter in her stomach...the same way she used to feel when Daddy was about to come in to see her off to one of the ship's dances. He would admire her dress, and tell her he hoped she would find someone, this time...

She hoped Mom had told Daddy that his daughter _had_ found someone. Even though the someone in question didn't have a clue at the time.

Archer entered the cabin, a padd in his hand. He had an aura of happiness that Karyn hadn't seen for a long time. He stopped dead when he saw her. "Wow."

Karyn giggled. "Everybody's doing that. Does it really look that good?"

"_You_ look that good." He came closer, motioning for her to turn around. As she did a slow twirl for him, he made noises of paternal appreciation. "Where did you get it?" he asked.

"Esilia wore it when she married her Jonathan," Karyn smiled.

"Oh." Archer looked at the dress again, wistfully. "I can see why it's special to you, then."

Karyn was sorry that his joy had dimmed. "I have some other keepsakes that the Archers on my ship saved over the years. Later, when things are a little less crazy, I thought we might sit down together and look through them."

Archer nodded. "I'd like that." Then he roused himself, holding up his padd. "As the officiator at your ceremony, I have come to inform you that I have at last found the wedding vows. You have your choice of—"

"Wait, Papa." Karyn crossed to her overnight bag and pulled out the parchment inscribed with her parents' wedding vows. "I found this when I found the dress."

She gave him the parchment. He scanned the handwritten calligraphy, an expression of wonder appearing on his face. "Your parents' vows."

Karyn nodded. "They're a mix of human and Ikaaran traditions."

"'I choose you, Charles, to be my husband...to laugh with you, to comfort you, to stand by your side...'" Archer put his arm around Karyn. "These are perfect for you and Lorian."

She hugged him. "Great. Now all I need is Something New, and I'm a real bride."

"Something new?"

"Wedding tradition. 'Something Old, Something New..."

He nodded. "Right."

Karyn pointed to her dress. "This is Old and Blue." Then the vows. "That's Borrowed."

"Something new, huh?" Archer pursed his lips thoughtfully. Then he smiled, a deliciously enigmatic smile that immediately drove Karyn wild with curiosity.

"What?" she asked.

"I'll be back in a bit," he said, crossing to the door.

She followed him. "Papa? _What?_"

Archer kissed her on the forehead. "See you soon." Then he was gone, the door shutting behind him.

-tbc-


	11. Unresolved

**...Touching and Touched**

Disclaimer: _Star Trek: Enterprise_ is the property of CBS/Paramount. All original material herein is the property of its author.

A/N: I received terrific help for this chapter from Ligeia, who knows more about the engineering room of the NX-01 than I think the designers on the show did, and pookha, who gave me information and speculation and musings to my heart's content. Thankee, ladies.

Note: Trip uses a phrase from one of my favorite comic strips ever, Gary Larson's _The Far Side_. It wouldn't surprise me at all if folks were still quoting that strip 150 years from now.

* * *

Chapter 11: _Unresolved_

As T'Pol led the way across the length of E-Deck toward Trip's quarters, Catherine brought Chuck up to speed on all she'd learned over the past few hours. "...But even though Trip was hundreds of kilometers away on _Enterprise_, he could feel T'Pol's grief over her mom, because of that bond-thingy that was birthin' between them." Catherine glanced at T'Pol, walking a discreet several steps ahead of them, and marveled. "It must be the most remarkable thing, this connection they have..."

Chuck glared at his wife. "Have you lost your fool head?" he hissed, keeping his voice low. "Why are you all bandwagonny over her already? You've only known her three hours!"

Catherine lowered her voice as well. "Trip's known her for three _years_, hon," she replied calmly.

Chuck hmmphed. "I can't believe he let himself fall for her. And this fool claim of hers that she loves him back? Doesn't make any sense at all."

She shrugged. "It seems to make perfect sense to Trip."

Chuck looked pained. "Well, sure! For all we know, she's brainwashed him. Maybe she's using that telepathic bond-thingy to put thoughts inside his head without him even knowin' it. And suck information out of his brain."

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Chuck, you're talkin' nonsense."

"Am I? What else could she be gettin' out of this... 'relationship,' except an easier way to spy for her VHC cronies?"

T'Pol thought it best not to inform the Tuckers that her keen Vulcan ears were picking up their every whispered word, even several meters away. It was unfortunate, though not entirely unexpected, that Trip's father would be troubled regarding his son's new bondmate. She hoped that she and Chuck would eventually find common ground.

Catherine tried again. "Maybe they make each other happy."

"Exactly my point," Chuck declared. "Whoever heard of a happy Vulcan?"

Catherine sighed. "Chuck, we did not raise an idiot son. He's a genius. Or have you forgotten?"

"With engines, yes. With warp theory. Not with women."

Catherine knew better than to argue. Chuck would figure it out when he wanted to, and not before. Until then, she would leave him be. She patted her pockets absently, then abruptly pulled up. "I swear, I'd lose my head if it weren't tied on. T'Pol?"

T'Pol stopped, turning back toward the Tuckers. Cathering shrugged apologetically. "I left my sewing kit in your quarters," she said. "You two go on ahead." And before her husband could stop her, she was off, scurrying back the way she came.

"Cath?!" The last thing Chuck wanted was to be stuck alone with the Vulcan woman.

His rapidly-retreating wife waved at him, without turning back. "I'll catch up with you!" Then she rounded a corner and was gone.

_Well, that's just great. _Reluctantly, Chuck joined T'Pol. She seemed entirely unfazed by Catherine's sudden desertion. "Shall we?" she said politely.

They continued on, in deafening silence. Chuck wasn't about to strike up a casual conversation with her. Even if he wanted to, which he didn't, he wouldn't know what the hell to say to her. _So, read any good minds lately?_

With that damnably unflappable calm of hers, T'Pol broke the silence. "Catherine tells me that your new neighbors already consider you the preeminent handyman of your immediate community."

T'Pol making casual conversation? What was it about Vulcans throwing him for a loop today? Chuck was caught so completely off guard, he found himself responding to her. "Aw, I just have a knack for fixin' stuff, is all." Without thinking, he kept going. "Didn't take the neighbor kids long to figure out that Cath is the best cook around. They come by and put in requests now. Cocoa fudge, last week."

T'Pol nodded. "Trip speaks quite fondly of her culinary skills." After a moment, she went on, "He performed admirably as acting captain of _Enterprise_ during a critical stage of our mission to Vulcan. He was instrumental in defusing an armed conflict between Vulcan and Andorian forces."

"He stopped _another_ war between those two?" Chuck shook his head in disbelief.

"Indeed. He does seem to have a peculiar talent for finding himself in the position of mediator between them."

They walked on. Finally Chuck gave it up. He didn't feel like dancing around it anymore. "T'Pol...what are you intentions toward my son?"

He watched her consider the question with some surprise. "I intend to do my utmost to convince Starfleet to sanction our marriage, so that we may continue serving together aboard _Enterprise_," she replied.

"Why do you want to marry him?" Chuck asked bluntly.

He was thunderstruck to see tenderness cross her beautiful, serene features. Finally she spoke, choosing her words with care, her voice quiet and heartfelt. "He has become part of me. I cannot imagine my life without him."

He saw her visibly controlling her emotion, tucking it back behind that façade of Vulcan calm, but he had already seen more than he had ever dreamed was possible.

-- -- --

Trip answered the door chime. Chuck was standing there, noticeably lacking the wife he'd gone to fetch. "Cath forgot her sewing kit—she'll be along. I didn't come empty-handed, though." He stood aside, allowing T'Pol to enter ahead of him.

Trip beamed like sunshine when he saw her. Resisting the urge to hug her, he maintained his decorum, offering her a modest _ozh'esta_. "Three hours apart from you...somehow it seemed a lot longer," he said.

T'Pol brushed her fingers lightly against his cheek. "We are never apart, _t'hai'la_."

He smiled as he felt her sweet warmth through the bond. With a flourish, he ushered her over to the main attraction. "Behold the groom."

Lorian, dressed in his wedding robes, stood before a full-length mirror propped against the bulkhead. He fussed restlessly with his too-long jacket sleeves as Soval settled the ceremonial brocade outer robe on his shoulders. As Lorian caught sight of T'Pol in the mirror, he turned to face her, his expression brightening with a touching combination of expectation and nervousness: a son wanting his mother's approval.

T'Pol simply stared at him for a long moment, unable to speak. He looked strikingly handsome in the ivory and blue robes, which complemented his fair hair and blue eyes. She was surprised by her strong emotional reaction. Was this maternal pride? If so, it was pleasing, albeit exceedingly difficult to keep under control.

Finally, she found her voice. "Your appearance is most becoming, my son."

His face lit with a bashful little Lorian-smile. "Thank you, Mother."

T'Pol was suddenly, poignantly aware of a pang of envy for her older counterpart, who had known this man when he was a boy. The other T'Pol had nurtured him, played with him, guided him to adulthood, consoled and challenged and cherished him for a century. What had it been like to give birth to him? To see his first smile? To grieve with him over the loss of his father? To teach him to dance?

"I wish..." She hesitated, feeling self-conscious. "I'm glad we are together again."

Lorian took her hand, his smile growing warm and openly affectionate. "So am I."

His touch and manner put her at ease. "Someday," she ventured, "I should like to hear what manner of mother I was."

"You were extraordinary. As you are now." He glanced at Trip. "As you no doubt will be again someday."

The door chimed, and Trip let in Catherine. She took one look at Lorian and whistled appreciatively. "Lordy, but you look fine!"

Lorian blushed. "Thank you, Catherine."

She bustled over and took a look at his sleeves. "This won't take but a few minutes. Off with it now, so I can get to work."

Lorian slipped off the outer robe and jacket. He was wearing an ivory satin tunic underneath, with wide-cut sleeves and a front slit neckline that made him look downright dashing, Catherine thought. He and Karyn _were_ going to look like something out of a fairy tale, at that.

T'Pol turned back to Trip. "I have come to pick out appropriate attire for you to wear to the ceremony."

Trip threw up his hands. "Now _you're_ gonna tell me there's something wrong with my shirt?"

"The color is incorrect," T'Pol stated. "And I trust you would not wish for your...vivid style...to outshine that of the bride."

"Oh!" Trip was instantly deferential. "No, o' course not. Okay then, tell me what color would be more—"

She was already opening his closet door, scanning the contents within. "I shall select the proper clothing for you."

He chewed his lip as he watched her. He was starting to feel a little...henpecked. "Darlin', it's been a lotta years since I needed anybody to pick out my clothes. I don't understand why you can't just—"

"This." She pulled out a midnight-blue shirt and matching slacks.

As he looked at the dark blue outfit, Trip felt a wave of sensual pleasure, mixed with a deep, resonant love, echoing through the bond. The last time he'd worn those clothes was three days ago, for their bonding mind-meld. "I wore that when _we_ got married," he said softly.

T'Pol's voice was low and intimate. "I remember, _t'hai'la_."

Trip felt the bond flare between them. Suddenly his mind's eye was filled with images and sensations from that night. T'Pol's lips and tongue caressing his body...cool air on his naked skin...the feel of her pleasure inside his mind as he explored her with his hands and mouth...the bond burning white-hot as they drove each other to ecstasy—

A subtle shiver of desire passed through him, snapping him out of his reverie. He blinked and swallowed. When did his throat get so dry?

T'Pol was watching him, her eyes deep brown pools of memories and promises. "This color is much more pleasing," she said.

Catherine, sitting at Trip's desk, working on the jacket, hardly looked up. "Hon, she's seen Karyn's wedding gown, and you haven't. If I were you, I'd take her advice and do what she tells you."

Trip nodded obediently to his wife. "I guess it's decided, then."

T'Pol gestured toward the bathroom. "I shall assist you."

He smiled at her, resisting the urge to squirm as she tickled him playfully through the bond. "You're gonna dress me?"

"I do not intend to leave you until you are properly attired for the ceremony," T'Pol replied coolly.

"Whatever you say." He escorted her into the bathroom, shutting the door behind them. And quietly locking it.

-- -- --

T'Pol hung the midnight-blue outfit on the back of the door, then began unbuttoning Trip's electric burgundy shirt. He stood close to her, his face centimeters from hers. As her fingers brushed against his chest, sparks of pleasure shot through him, sensitizing his entire body before settling in his groin.

"Is all this comin' from me?" he asked, his voice husky with desire.

"No." She slid his shirt off, letting it drop. "I feel it as well."

He ran his fingers lightly up and down her arms. "I thought we resolved all this newlywed bond friskiness days ago. I mean, we worked at it...diligently...that whole night." God, she smelled wonderful. "And half the next night."

"Soval could not say how long the bond's mating urges would remain strong. Apparently Lorian's impending marriage and bonding are providing unexpected...stimulation." T'Pol reached down between them, unbuckling Trip's belt. "We must, of course, control ourselves. The wedding ceremony begins in less than an hour."

"I think anybody who'd been through _pon farr_ would understand the need to satisfy uncontrollable urges." Trip could feel the bond humming between them now, insistently. He took her by the hips, lazily rubbing himself against her, and she drew in a soft breath. "Y'know," he said, "it might be easier, and quicker, for us to just take care of this right now."

She unzipped his slacks. "Here? With your parents in the next room?" She pushed them off his hips, and they slid to the floor. "Is that entirely appropriate?"

"Probably not." He brought his hands up, brushing his knuckles lightly over her breasts. "Kinda wickedly inappropriate, actually." He smiled. "Ask me if I care."

She trailed her hands up his sculpted, muscular back. "As you wish. Do you care if—"

He silenced her with a kiss, wet and hungry, his tongue swirling against hers. As she matched the urgency of his kiss, he reached behind her, unzipping her uniform in one smooth motion, all the way down to the swell of her shapely backside.

He could feel his whole body trembling with need for her now, as the bond pulsed urgently. He kicked off shoes and slacks all at once, then slid his hand down inside her uniform, cupping the smooth skin of her ass as he nuzzled his way down her throat.

T'Pol's breath was quickening in response to his touch. "I remind you that there are two Vulcans with quite sensitive hearing on the other side of that door," she intoned softly. "If we proceed, it would be advisable to do so in complete silence."

Trip grinned at her. "I'm game if you are, wife," he whispered.

-- -- --

Not a minute after Trip and T'Pol disappeared into the bathroom, Soval suggested quietly to Lorian that they practice the ritual phrases for tonight's bonding, and Lorian readily agreed. Catherine thought it was mighty odd, as she listened to them softly repeating Vulcan phrases back and forth. It seemed as if memorization would be the last thing on Lorian's mind, half an hour before his wedding ceremony.

Then she remembered how acute Vulcan hearing was...and she suddenly wondered if Trip and T'Pol were doing something more in the bathroom than just changing his clothes, and the Vulcans were choosing not to listen.

She almost laughed out loud. It reminded her of those heady summer evenings while she and Chuck had been courting. They would come home late, unable to keep their hands off each other, and indulge in all kinds of romantic hanky-panky in the sitting room, with her folks asleep just down the hall. The possibility of being caught in the act was just part of the thrill.

Ha! Catherine wondered if Mom and Dad had known what their daughter and her beau had been doing out there all along.

She glanced at Chuck. He was sitting on Trip's bunk, examining the gold wedding band Lorian had given him for safekeeping while he changed into his wedding robes. It was just as well that Chuck wasn't tracking on what Trip and T'Pol might be doing in the bathroom. Catherine didn't think he was ready for _that_ mental image yet.

Personally, she was tickled at the idea that the kids might be fooling around in there. It told her that, no matter her heritage, T'Pol was capable of spontaneity, good old-fashioned naughtiness, and keeping a passionate emotional human male happy. That boded well for their relationship.

She handed the finished jacket back to Lorian, who slipped it on and stood obediently as she eyed her handiwork, then nodded her approval. She noticed his hands moving restively at his sides. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were getting a little nervous," she remarked.

Lorian endeavored to quell his fidgeting. "Perhaps." Tentatively, he continued, "I know I'm not permitted to see Karyn before the ceremony, but...would it be possible for you to tell me anything...?"

Catherine smiled. "She'll take your breath away, darlin'."

Lorian looked down, but Catherine caught the pleased little smile he was trying to hide. It was charming, seeing how much he loved the girl.

Trip and T'Pol emerged from the bathroom, every hair in place, Trip looking positively debonair in his midnight-blue ensemble. But Catherine noticed they both had that..._glow_ about them. She hid a smile behind her hand. They were fast, she gave 'em that.

Chuck did a double-take at Trip's suave appearance. "Damn. If I didn't know it was you, I wouldn't have recognized you."

Trip smirked at him. "Har har."

"Thank goodness you finally found a woman with good taste in your clothes," Catherine added.

"Okay, get it all out of your systems, both of you," Trip said with an exaggerated sigh.

Catherine snickered. The comm signaled, and Trip made a face at his mother as he crossed the room to answer the call. "Tucker here."

"It's Hendley again, sir. We've got a delivery here for Lieutenant Archer, but we're getting short-handed with all the guests arriving. Would you have someone to spare who could drop by Cargo Bay Two and pick it up?"

"That would be me," Catherine volunteered.

"Sure, Chief," Trip replied into the comm. "She'll be right over. Tucker out." He turned to Catherine. "Okay, Mom, the cargo bay is all the way aft—"

"I'll escort her there," T'Pol said. "We can return to my quarters together. I, too, must dress for the ceremony."

Trip walked both his ladies to the door. "What'll you be wearing?" he asked T'Pol, with an intrigued smile.

She touched her fingers to his in a light _ozh'esta_ as she slipped out. "Something blue."

"See y'all at the wedding," Catherine said cheerily, before following T'Pol out.

Trip took a seat beside Chuck on the bunk. "How're you holdin' up, Dad?"

"You're the one to be hangin' onto this." Chuck held the ring out. "There's an inscription inside, but I can't read it. Must be Vulcan."

Trip took the ring and studied the Vulcan script etched inside the band. He smiled. "It says _t'hai'la_."

"What's that, some pet name?"

Trip chuckled. "Vulcans don't go in for nicknames, Dad. It means 'friend.' But when it's used for a friend you love, it means 'beloved'."

Chuck frowned faintly. "Why not just use the word for 'beloved'? Oh—lemme guess. Vulcans don't have one."

"Sure they do," Trip said patiently. "It's _ashal-veh_. But we use _t'hai'la_ because making friends with each other was a big deal. It took a lot of work. The love wouldn't have happened without the friendship."

Chuck shook his head. "I'm still gettin' used to the idea that she has feelings at all. How can what they feel be the same as what we feel?" He pointed to the ring in Trip's hand. "I mean, what did she feel, really, when he died? The other Trip?"

Trip looked pensively at the wedding band. "She grieved for him. She was lonely...she missed him every day after he died."

"C'mon. How could you know?"

"Because she told me," Trip replied quietly.

Chuck was confused. "Come again?"

Trip paused. "When Lorian's ship first got here...his mother was with him. His birth mother, the other T'Pol."

Chuck was stunned speechless. "She'd been hurt in the battle," Trip continued. "She was dying. Lorian and I sat with her. She was delirious...she thought I was her Trip come back to her. I let her go on thinking I was him, so they could be together one last time." He smiled faintly, though his eyes were sad. "The way she looked at me...she loved him so much. For the first time, I knew it was possible, because _they_ had it. The real thing."

Chuck studied the wedding ring Trip held. Maybe it _was_ possible—for that T'Pol, anyway. No VHC to punish her, no Vulcan cultural watchdogs to declare her an abomination. Just the other-Trip, who wanted to share his life with her, have a family with her. If she really did love him, she would have been free to act on her feelings. She would have been a good wife to him.

It made his premature death all the more unfair.

There were still too many unanswered questions. They gnawed at Chuck's gut, refusing to go away. "How did he die?"

Trip drew back. "Dad, that's morbid."

"No, it isn't," Chuck retorted. "I have a right to know. He was my son—as much as you are. He went off to war, and he was killed, taken from his family. I need to know what happened." He realized his voice was rising, and with an effort, he pulled back. "I just want to know if it was a good death."

"What do you mean?"

"Honorable. Heroic. I dunno—just not pointless, not stupid," Chuck replied. "I'm hoping he died for a reason."

Trip hesitated. "I don't know how he died."

Chuck was incredulous. "You never asked?"

"I asked. Lorian didn't want me to know. I respected that."

"It's your life!"

"No," Trip said. "It was _his_ life—Lorian's life. His memories. After his ship disappeared and I thought we'd lost him..." He shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't see much point in digging up the records."

Chuck still didn't understand. "You didn't want to know? Or you were afraid to find out?"

Trip looked away. "Dad, you're picking at wounds that haven't healed."

"What do you expect me to do? You drop a Vulcan girlfriend and a middle-aged grandson in my lap, you tell me you got yourself killed a hundred years ago—you think I don't feel pretty torn up myself right now?—"

"It was a good death," came a quiet voice from across the room.

The two Tuckers looked up. Lorian was regarding them both calmly, though Chuck could see a faint shadow of sorrow in his eyes.

"Lorian, you don't have to talk about this," Trip said.

"I came to terms long ago with my father's death," Lorian replied. "Chuck is correct; he does have a right to know how his son met his end." His voice was gentle. "It is not your future, Father. But you need not listen, if you don't wish to."

Trip looked vaguely apprehensive, but he took a deep breath, visibly composing himself. "I'll stay."

Lorian pulled over the chair from Trip's desk and sat, his brocade robe draped in careless majesty around him. Chuck had an image of a high priest imparting a grave secret from the Holy of Holies.

"_Enterprise_ was near a sphere that had gone undetected by my mother's scans," Lorian began. "Its gravimetric signature was insignificant, for it had fallen into disrepair. It lay invisible behind its cloaking field. That day, evidently by some sort of self-maintenance program, it returned to full function. Commander Reed likened it to being struck by a gravimetric shockwave. Systems were knocked offline throughout the ship—weapons, sensors, electrical and communications."

He paused. Chuck could tell he was recalling still-painful memories, seeing the event through the eyes of the fourteen-year-old boy he had been back then.

"In engineering, the spatial distortions created microfractures all along the reactor coolant conduits," Lorian went on. "My father evacuated engineering and stayed behind, alone, to shut down the coolant flow and prevent a catastrophic leak."

"The reactor would have started to overheat," Trip said.

Lorian nodded. "He attempted to shut it down by conventional means, to no effect."

"The intermix ratio had destabilized?"

"Particles had flooded the reactor," Lorian confirmed.

Chuck listened to the exchange in growing disbelief. He felt as though he were careening toward a disaster—his son's imminent death—and yet these two engineers were discussing it with all the emotion of a sensor diagnostic test. He couldn't understand how they could be so unfeeling about it...until he realized they must be more profoundly affected than he was. They were hiding behind professional masks to protect themselves.

"What does all this mean?" he asked.

"Antimatter containment was in danger of failing," Trip answered. "If he didn't get the warp reactor shut down, the ship would go up like a supernova."

Lorian continued. "As he was initiating a manual shutdown of the reactor, another spatial anomaly passed through engineering. It breached the physical shielding around the warp core housing."

"Oh God," Trip breathed. He looked away.

Chuck knew enough to understand what it meant. The ruptured shielding must have released a massive, mortal burst of ionizing radiation. He glanced from his stricken son to his somber grandson.

When Lorian spoke again, his voice was soft. "In the few minutes of life he had left, my father shut down the reactor, then lowered the emergency bulkheads to prevent the radiation leak from spreading beyond the confines of engineering." He turned to Chuck. "His quick actions saved his crew, and the entire ship."

It was a good death, then. A hero's death. But it gave Chuck little comfort. All he could see was his son suffering and dying alone. The devastating image burned pitilessly into his brain.

"Where was T'Pol?" Trip asked, his voice almost plaintive.

"On the bridge, with Captain Archer."

"She wouldn't have been able to get to him in time." Trip's face filled with pain as he looked up at his son. "Then...they were separated."

Lorian laid a gentle hand on Trip's arm. "They were together, Father. They were bonded."

Trip swallowed hard and nodded, reassured, as he gripped Lorian's hand.

As Chuck watched them, the ghastly image in his head shifted, becoming a picture of T'Pol comforting her dying husband...and Chuck realized that he'd finally found a reason to be glad about the bond.

* * *

Karyn settled the silver circlet in her upswept ebony hair. Behind her, T'Pol, now dressed in a sleek, elegant floor-length sheath of midnight blue, adjusted the fall of the gossamer wedding veil.

Catherine handed over the two wedding bouquets that Chief Quartermaster Hendley had given her in the cargo bay. She gave the two women a final once-over. "Pretty as a picture, ladies."

Karyn ran her hand over the blue irises and delicate baby's breath in her bouquet. "I wasn't even thinking about flowers."

"From the look of that cargo bay, darlin', plenty of other people had it covered," Catherine said with a smile.

The door chimed, and T'Pol admitted Captain Archer, resplendent in his dress uniform. "Commander, you look wonderful," he greeted her.

"As do you, Captain." T'Pol stepped aside, giving Archer an unimpeded view of the bride.

Karyn was a breathtaking vision in ice-blue, holding a lovely bouquet, her veil shimmering down her shoulders like an iridescent waterfall. For an instant, Archer imagined Esilia wearing that wedding dress for another Jonathan a century ago...and he realized how much he longed to be a husband and father, a real father, to a daughter like Karyn.

He came closer, shaking his head with a frown. "No...there's something missing."

Karyn looked down at herself, anxiously. "What?"

He tipped her chin back up. "Your Something New."

She perked up like a little girl on Christmas morning. "What is it?"

"Something from my vast and crazy travels." He produced a small envelope. "A couple of years ago, I found myself stranded in a post-apocalyptic 31st century, on a scavenger hunt for copper. I came across a few things made of brass and bronze, but the order was for pure copper, so I had to keep looking."

Karyn accepted his account of time-travel without batting an eye. "Did you find it?"

Archer nodded. "I did, and we got the job done. When I returned to the here and now, I discovered that I'd brought back one of the rejected items—it was still in my pocket."

He presented her with the envelope. Intrigued, Karyn opened it. Inside was a bronze medallion, about an inch in diameter, attached to a serpentine chain. "I found it in a high-rise apartment complex," Archer said. "The bedroom looked like it belonged to a teenaged girl."

Karyn examined the raised image on the front of the medal. "Is that some kind of flower?"

"It's a Scottish thistle," Archer supplied. "I looked it up."

She read the words etched around the border of the medallion. "981st Highland Gathering and Games, Santa Rosa, 2945...3rd Place, Seann Triubhas." She stumbled over the last two words.

He chuckled. "I had to look that up, too. It's Gaelic—a traditional Scottish dance, performed in a kilt to the skirl of bagpipes. There are competitions all over the place." He tapped the medal. "There were a lot of medals in that bedroom, most of them gold. The young lady must have been quite a dancer." He smiled. "If you were to quantum-date this, the reading would come back at about minus nine hundred years. That's as new as a Something New can be, I figure."

Karyn laughed. "I like it."

He fastened it around her neck. She touched the little bronze medallion at her throat, and smiled at him. "How does it look?"

"You look beautiful," he replied.

She blushed. "Papa..."

"I didn't get to dote on you when you were a child, so bear with me." Archer held the medal lightly between his fingers. "I can't be with you all the time, but this is the closest thing. Every time you look at it, know that I'm thinking of you, no matter where—or when—I am." He laughed at himself as he felt tears coming to his eyes. "I know it's ridiculously sentimental, and so sweet that my teeth are rotting as I say it, but I don't care."

He looked up at her, and saw that she was just as teary-eyed as he was, even though she was laughing along with him. "I don't care, either." She threw her arms around him, and they hugged each other tight. "Thank you, Papa."

"I love you," he whispered into her hair.

"I love you, too." They dabbed at their eyes, still chuckling over their mutual mushiness. "Are all Archers this shmoopy?" Karyn asked. "I know my dad could get pretty soppy over romantic movies."

"My dad, too." Archer leaned conspiratorially close. "Don't tell anyone, but the Archer men have pretty much all been closet romantics."

"I'm sworn to secrecy," she whispered with a grin.

He adjusted the veil around her shoulders. "Soval will be here soon to escort you to the cargo bay."

"Traditionally, the last one with the bride is her mother," Catherine remarked. "I think T'Pol is the de facto mother of the bride here." She gave Karyn's hand a fond squeeze, then took Archer's arm. "Shall we, Captain?"

"Yes, ma'am." Archer walked her out.

T'Pol turned to Karyn, somewhat self-consciously. "Regarding me as a mother is not required. I have no intention of displacing your own mother in your memories."

Karyn smiled at her. "Don't worry about that." Lightly, she went on, "But seeing Lorian regard you as a mother, I think I like the idea of having a mom again. What do you think about having a daughter?"

T'Pol was deeply honored. "I find the idea most agreeable."

* * *

Chuck was MIA.

Archer found out when he and Catherine dropped by Trip's quarters for a final check-in with Lorian. Trip would say only that "Dad's brain was full," and he needed some time by himself. Trip had pointed his father in the direction of the Observation Lounge.

Archer found him there, staring out the viewport at the majestic view of Earth below. "Am I disturbing you?"

Chuck glanced up at him. "I suppose they sent you to fetch me."

Archer shrugged faintly. "We have a few minutes."

Chuck turned his attention back to the glowing blue-white world below. "You can see it so clearly from here. I didn't realize."

Archer joined him at the viewport. _Enterprise_ was in synchronous orbit over North America. The Florida trench stood out like an ugly scar.

"You been there?" Chuck asked.

Archer nodded. "After we got back from the Expanse."

"It was cold by then. For months, it was a smoking hellfire of a thing. Took a long time to die." Chuck's eyes focused on the past, rather than the trench, as he continued. "We stayed near Ground Zero, doing volunteer work, listening to people, just keeping busy. I built temporary housing, and Catherine made the rounds of all the shelters. She cooked a lot. Her chicken spaghetti was a real favorite among the refugees..."

He fell silent. Archer didn't rush him.

Finally Chuck spoke again, with conviction. "I am not a bigoted jerk."

Archer was a little surprised, but the statement explained a lot. "I never said you were."

"Trip did, this morning. He was joking, but not really. You know."

Archer made no comment. He sensed a dam about to break.

Chuck turned to him, his expression almost challenging. "Look, I may be just a carpenter, but I'm not stupid. I don't harbor blind, ignorant hatred of aliens. I have very specific reasons for disliking Vulcans, for example. The VHC, and Soval, and T'Pol have driven you and Trip batty for years. Vulcans rained all over our warp program for decades. Watching the Vulcans bail on us during the war didn't help, either. Nothing I have seen or heard ever contradicted my point of view. Until today."

"It's been a lot to adjust to, hasn't it?" Archer remarked mildly.

Chuck chuffed out an ironic laugh. "Some yahoos outside Starfleet called me a traitor to my species today, because they saw me walking with Soval and Lorian. A while later, I watched a bunch of Vulcans look at Lorian as if he was some kind of mutant throwback, just because he was half-human. None of 'em knew us from Adam, but that didn't stop them." His voice quieted. "A year and a half ago, we didn't know the Xindi existed. They'd never even laid eyes on us, but that didn't stop them from trying to wipe us out. It didn't stop them from killing my baby girl."

He looked down at Earth again. "The xenophobes made it sound so simple. 'We can't trust any of 'em! We were better off when we kept to ourselves!' I bought into it—we all did to some extent, I guess. But it's not that simple, is it?"

"No," Archer said. "The genie's out of the bottle. It was loosed as soon as Cochrane fired up his warp engines and got noticed. There will always be someone who needs to know if there's something more...beyond that hill, beyond that sea, beyond that sky. And there will always be the risk that what he finds isn't friendly. That doesn't automatically make every alien evil, any more than it makes every human good."

Chuck heaved an exasperated sigh. "Catherine's certainly not having any problems with all this. 'Guess what—your son's in love with a Vulcan, and kinda married to her, and telepathically glued to her. And here's your hundred-year-old grandson from another timeline. And by the way, Soval's a good guy, and a sentimental softy to boot.' She's just rolling right with it. Maybe she's just not thinking." He ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe I'm thinking too much. I dunno. I just need to make some kind of sense of all of this."

"Soval was saying yesterday that we all have room for enlightenment, but we have fears and prejudices to overcome first," Archer said.

Chuck eyed him doubtfully. "Vulcans have fears?"

"Not any that they would admit to," Archer smiled. "But I learned a few things from Soval on our way home. For instance: the Vulcans weren't holding our warp program back for the last hundred years because they thought we were morons with no potential. They thought we had more potential than they did! We'd come so far so fast, after the last war, that they were afraid we'd sail into deep space and leave them in the dust."

"Vulcans...afraid of us." Chuck shook his head in quiet disbelief. "I'll be damned. Is that why they sat out the war? Did they want the Xindi to get rid of us?"

"They didn't sit it out, not at first," Archer said. "They sent two ships into the Expanse right after Earth was attacked."

Chuck's eyes widened in surprise. "It wasn't made public," Archer confirmed. "Both ships were lost with all hands. There's a substance in the Expanse called trellium-D—it's used for shielding ships against space anomalies. And it's deadly to Vulcans. That's why they couldn't send their fleet there."

Chuck looked heavenward, in perplexed frustration. "Damn fools. If they'd told us, it might've changed the way we thought about them."

"Fear, Chuck. They were afraid to admit to a weakness." Archer leaned against the viewport. "However, there have been a few Vulcans who weren't afraid of us, who saw our potential as a benefit for both our species. Because of the Reformation, those Vulcans are helping us to make the shift from mentor and student to partners. They're taking off the jesses and letting us spread our wings. Wiser minds like Soval are leading the way now."

"Do you trust him? Really?" Chuck was asking the question genuinely.

"During our last mission, Soval threw away his career with the High Command to help finger the embassy bombers," Archer replied. "He endured being kidnapped and tortured to help overthrow his corrupt government and avert an unjust war. Yes, I trust him."

Chuck mulled over the captain's words, still looking unsure. "And...T'Pol? Do I trust her with my son?"

Archer looked squarely at him. "Chuck, when the VHC put Sub-commander T'Pol on my ship four years ago, they didn't do it as a goodwill gesture because I needed a science officer. We all knew why she was there. But no one—not me, and certainly not the High Command—counted on her loyalty to her captain and crew, or her rare affinity for humans, or her unseemly curiosity." He smiled. "She surprised everybody. I think she even surprised herself."

He gazed out the viewport, into the distant infinity of stars. "When _Enterprise_ was getting ready to leave for the Expanse, she was ordered back to Vulcan—but she resigned her commission to stay with us. We learned about the lethal effects of trellium-D only after T'Pol was exposed to it and nearly died. At that point she asked me to dump her on the nearest habitable planet and continue our mission without her, so we could shield the ship with trellium-D."

Archer paused, recalling the final frenetic days of the mission, as Trip and T'Pol feverishly worked until they determined the function of the sphere network, and its vulnerability. Everything sprang from that—the cooperation of the Xindi Aquatics, the Xindi anti-war alliance, the solution to disabling the spheres, the defeat of the Sphere Builders. It changed everything. T'Pol's presence changed everything.

"If I had followed her advice," he said at last, "we would probably have lost the war. T'Pol was instrumental in providing information and solutions that not only helped us destroy the Xindi superweapon, but sabotaged the plan to reconfigure space, which would have destroyed all life in the universe."

He turned back to Chuck. "But long before that, we would certainly have lost Trip. His grief and anger over Elizabeth would have destroyed him, if not for T'Pol. Her compassion for him, and her desire to help him, was the beginning of something neither of them expected, but something that was building since the moment they first met. Where it's brought them is where they belong. Together."

In Archer's quiet certainty, Chuck seemed to find what he'd been seeking. Slowly, he nodded, accepting. "A Vulcan daughter-in-law," he mused, trying it on for size. Then he shrugged. "At least she's not Xindi."

Archer felt like strangling him. With an effort, he kept his voice calm. "Chuck, you can't put an entire species in a box and label them all good or bad."

"Xindi, you can," Chuck said flatly.

_Time for more enlightenment._ "The ship that found Lorian's _Enterprise_, and rescued them, was Xindi."

Chuck stared at him. Archer added, "The man who convinced the majority of the Xindi Council to help us stop the superweapon—he was Xindi, too. We wouldn't have succeeded without his help."

Chuck was dumbfounded. "Why did he help you?"

"He found out he'd been lied to, and used. He wanted to make amends for the seven million." Archer hesitated, but only for a moment. "He was the same Xindi who designed the probe that killed Elizabeth."

Chuck looked away, his face hardening. "He didn't do enough."

"He did what he could," Archer said. "He would have done more, but he was murdered. One of his fellow Xindi found out he was helping us, and killed him."

Chuck's expression didn't change. "Sounds like justice to me, not murder."

"I'm not sure Degra would disagree with you." Archer took a deep breath. "I suppose we're all capable of committing great wrongs for the most noble of reasons. I know I'm guilty of that."

Chuck looked up, sharply. "You were fighting a war, Jon. You did what you had to do." He eyed Archer knowingly. "And from the look I've seen in your eyes today, you still have trouble sleeping at night over it. That means whatever you did out there, it didn't rob you of your humanity, or your conscience." He put a hand on Archer's shoulder. "You're a good man, Jon. You're _still_ a good man. What you're working through...it's not gonna happen overnight. It'll take time."

Archer nodded, grateful for Chuck's reassurance. Then he gave the elder Tucker a mock frown. "Don't get me off-topic. I'm supposed to be saying that to you."

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Like the wise old Vulcan softy said—we all have room for enlightenment."

Archer laughed, and Chuck gave him a grudging smile, before shooing him toward the door. "What're you doin' standing around here? Don't you have a wedding to perform?"

Archer smirked at him. "I just came by to round up a stubborn stick-in-the-mud."

The two men headed out. "You shouldn't speak to your elders that way," Chuck admonished. "Do you talk to Lorian like that? He's Vulcan, y'know. He could put you down."

"You don't understand," Archer explained patiently. "Technically, yes, he's older. But see, I'm the _patriarch_..."

-tbc-


	12. Finally

**...Touching and Touched **

Disclaimer: _Star Trek: Enterprise_ is the property of Paramount Pictures, Inc. All original material herein is the property of its author.

A/N: Thanks again to pookha, for coming up with a "what-if" notion for a sketchy character and letting me gallop off with it. Also, thankee to Ligeia for more engineering know-how.

* * *

Chapter 12: _Finally_

T'Pol ushered Ambassador Soval into her quarters. Karyn thought he looked wonderfully distinguished in his pale gray ambassadorial robes. He gazed at her shimmering wedding gown and flowing veil with an appreciation that seemed nostalgic, somehow.

"Pale blue, almost like ice," he said quietly, repeating her earlier description. "This is the color I pictured...the color I remember. Is the design your own?"

"My great-grandmother's," she replied. She wondered what memory he had been visiting. From the look in his eyes, it was a fond one. "It's Ikaaran."

"An appropriate choice," he nodded. Graciously, he held out his arm. "Are you ready, niece?"

Karyn had a sudden flash of memory herself...she was nine years old, standing with her father on the bridge of _Enterprise_, watching Captain Lorian save a shipful of people by using little more than calm resourcefulness and that reassuring, dulcet baritone voice. She had decided then and there that she wanted to marry him.

"I've been ready for seventeen years, Uncle," she replied, taking his arm.

Soval arched a silver eyebrow. "Then by all means, let us proceed."

-- -- --

They really could have used more room.

Cargo Bay Two was SRO. Nearly a hundred fifty people had happily packed themselves into the cavernous room, now transformed into a silk-walled, flower-bedecked dreamland for the wedding. Lorian and Karyn's former crew had been joined by a number of personnel from _Columbia_ and the Starfleet compound, and a sizable contingent from _Enterprise's_ engineering crew.

In the front row, not far from Admiral Gardner and Captain Hernandez, Catherine sat in an aisle seat, willing herself not to look around for Chuck again. _Jonathan will bring him_, she told herself. She focused on the flower-accented podium, trying to concentrate on the music softly wafting through the room. Whoever had made the selections—she figured on that crackerjack quartermaster, Lt. Hendley—had good taste. She'd heard Bach's _Brandenburg Concerto No. 4_ and _Cantata No. 147_, Corelli's _Pastorale_, and Chopin's _Nocturne in E Flat_. As Faure's _Pavane_ began, Catherine wondered if Hendley would be equally creative with the wedding party's entrance music...Clarke's _Trumpet Voluntary_, perhaps.

She heard a courteous voice behind her. "Ma'am? I believe this belongs to you."

Catherine turned to see Jon, with a twinkle in his eye, delivering Chuck to the seat she'd saved for him. "Thank you kindly," she said with relief. "Now would you please get this show on the road?"

"The bride is on her way," Archer assured her. He gave her a polite little bow, looking like an overgrown Eagle Scout, then took his place at the podium.

As Chuck sat beside her, Catherine gave him a once-over. He seemed a tad more settled. "I was wondering about you," she murmured.

Chuck took her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Sorry if I made you worry." He shook his head wryly. "I've had so much information dumped on me in the last four hours, I can't even see which way is up anymore. I mostly still feel like I'm in shock."

"I'll keep you warm and safe until you come out of it." Catherine hooked her arm through his, snuggling close. "It's like Jon said before. It doesn't all have to make sense."

Chuck kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks, hon."

"For what?"

"Bein' patient with me."

Catherine smiled. "I'm not goin' anywhere."

* * *

There were only four crewmen on duty in engineering. Three were glued to the auxiliary monitors at their stations, watching the feed from the cargo bay, chatting back and forth to each other over their internal comm in eager anticipation of the wedding as they worked their consoles.

The fourth crewman was Ensign Nick Masaro. Now was the perfect opportunity for him to hack into Commander Tucker's computer—which was precisely why he'd volunteered to stay in engineering during the ceremony.

Nick ignored the view of the cargo bay on all the secondary monitors as he sat at Tucker's workstation. Using the decryption sequencer his Terra Prime contact had given him that morning, he broke into the commander's system within seconds. He felt vaguely uncomfortable rooting around in the chief's files; he still had a lot of respect for the man. But what he was doing was for Tucker's good, as much as anyone else's—to free him from the influence of that Vulcan woman.

Quickly, Nick began hunting for the sim generator he'd overheard Tucker telling T'Pol about when they had come in together two days ago. Nick had been around the corner from Tucker's workstation, running a systems check on the coolant regulators, and had been able to listen in. Tucker had told T'Pol that he knew now how troubled she still was, even after all these months. He said the battle simulation he was working on would tell them, one way or the other, whether her command ability had been affected.

Nick had been waiting ever since, for an opportunity to get a look at that battle sim.

He located the sim generator. He could feel his heart beating more quickly as he loaded it. Contained here, he hoped, was evidence he could take to his upcoming meeting with Paxton: incontrovertible evidence of T'Pol's incompetence, something that could be leaked to the brass at HQ and get her tossed off _Enterprise's_ senior staff, maybe off the ship itself...maybe even out of Starfleet.

The program's opening screen came up. _Welcome, Commander Tucker_, the graphic greeted him. _Choose your scenario from the following options._ There was only one battle scenario listed: AZATI PRIME.

* * *

_Pavane_ ended, leaving a significant silence in the cargo bay. The guests rustled with anticipation. Catherine saw Jon give a small nod to someone in back—it was Hendley, who spoke quietly into a communicator. Then the buoyant strings of Pachelbel's _Canon in D_ filled the air, and the groom and best man entered the cargo bay. The wedding ceremony was underway.

Lorian and Trip walked side by side up the center aisle, as the crowd gawked admiringly at Lorian's ivory and blue wedding robes. His crew had never seen him in traditional Vulcan dress before, much less formal ceremonial regalia. Father and son took their places at the podium, to Archer's left, then turned to face the door, awaiting the arrival of the bride.

To almost everyone else in the room, Lorian undoubtedly looked perfectly composed. But Catherine saw his faintly fidgeting hands. He was a nervous groom, the sweet thing. As she watched, Trip laid his hand lightly on Lorian's back, providing a father's calming touch. Lorian relaxed almost at once.

Trip smiled at him with a paternal affection that left Catherine unexpectedly moved. It reminded her of how much her son had matured over the past two years. And no wonder—he'd lost and grieved, survived a war, found love, and gained a family. He had adapted to extraordinary changes, becoming stronger and more sure of himself. She couldn't be more proud of him.

Watching him talking softly with Lorian and Jon, smiling at some passing comment, Catherine wished she had a camera. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of Hendley's crew kneeling unobtrusively nearby, discreetly snapping pictures. Hendley had evidently thought of everything, bless his heart.

Lorian lightly clasped his hands in front of him, all visible signs of nervousness gone now. Catherine heard Chuck murmur under his breath, "Atta boy." So he had seen Lorian's jitters, too. She was enormously pleased that Chuck had taken such a shine to this suddenly revealed, half-Vulcan grandson. Her husband had come a lot farther than he realized.

As Pachelbel's melody splintered off into intricate counterpoint, the cargo bay door opened again and T'Pol entered, a portrait of lovely, elegant simplicity in her flowing midnight blue gown, carrying her pretty bouquet of blue irises.

Catherine grinned as she saw Trip's jaw drop at the sight of his beloved. For the time it took T'Pol to reach the podium, the rest of the universe apparently ceased to exist for him. As she took her place on Archer's right, even Lorian looked amused at the expression on Trip's face.

Then the center of the universe shifted to the doorway again, becoming an opalescent ice-blue beauty with a smile as luminous as the sun. Karyn entered on Ambassador Soval's arm, her elaborate wedding bouquet cascading down in front of her shimmering gown, her silver crown gleaming in her jet-black hair. She gasped softly in delight at her first view of the floral wonderland...and then her gaze fell on Lorian.

As fun as it was to watch the crowd look at Lorian and Karyn, Catherine found it much more touching to watch the two of them look at each other. Karyn's smile softened, becoming much more personal, for him alone. Lorian, while maintaining his calm Vulcan demeanor in this public venue, could not keep his expressive blue eyes from revealing the love that filled his heart. He stood transfixed as his bride and the ambassador glided up the aisle toward him, accompanied by the appreciative murmurs of the guests.

Karyn heard the music building to its pleasantly jubilant finish as Soval brought her to the podium and bowed formally over her hand. Impulsively, she reached up and kissed him on the cheek. He hesitated only a moment, then softly touched his lips to her forehead.

Karyn felt goosebumps rise on her skin, as if she had been somehow blessed by the old Vulcan's gentle kiss. She sensed that Soval's gesture was more than simply an act of diplomatic courtesy. She looked up at him, and saw gentle warmth in his wise brown eyes. Then his lips quirked up ever so slightly, and Karyn felt her heart melting. Soval stepped away, taking a seat in the front row next to Admiral Gardner, and Karyn and Lorian turned to face one another.

* * *

As Nick stared at the cursed words glowing on the monitor screen, memories of the bloodbath of Azati Prime rose up around him, still as sharp and painful as broken glass: the choking smoke, the shouts and screams, the sickly stench of burning bodies...and Commander Tucker's voice ringing through the chaos, giving orders, working desperately to keep his people alive, to keep the ship alive.

Nick was blown off his feet when the first EPS tap overloaded. He slammed against the aft bulkhead as he heard the rest of the plasma outlets going up in a chain reaction of explosions. His head felt as though it had been split in two. Gradually his vision cleared...and then he saw Angie two meters away, engulfed in flames.

He knocked her to the deck and rolled her, smothering most of the fire. As he stamped out her burning hair with his bare hands, he felt icy CO2 smoke cascading over them both. Tucker was there with a fire extinguisher. As soon as the flames were out, the chief knelt, taking in Angie's injuries with one quick, anguished sweep of his eyes. "Get her to sickbay, and stay there," he told Nick. "You don't look much better." There was a shout for help around the corner, and Tucker took off, extinguisher in hand.

Nick swept his sister up in his arms and carried her to sickbay, though his lungs burned and there was blood stinging his eyes, half-blinding him. Sickbay was already filling up with injured, but Phlox rushed over as soon as he saw Angie. He had the same look of restrained horror on his face that Nick had seen from Tucker. Nick hovered beside the biobed, refusing to be treated or led away, as Phlox worked on Angie, running scans, then attaching some awful contraption to her chest that made her whole body jump. Nick found himself staring incongruously at the charred remains of Angie's lustrous blond hair. He knew she would be beside herself when she found out about her hair.

When Phlox told him Angie was gone, Nick didn't believe him. He laughed, as sickbay began to tilt like a funhouse ride, and Angie played dead on the biobed. Nick explained to Phlox what a practical joker she was, that she'd been pulling stunts like this since they were kids. Phlox must have missed something. Nick wiped fresh blood out of his eyes and peered at the biobed indicators, wondering why they were all pointing to zero. Stubbornly, he tapped at them, trying to make them work. They had to be broken. Angie was just playing...

Nick spent the next two days in sickbay with a concussion, trying to picture life without his sister. They'd gone through Starfleet Training together, been posted to _Enterprise_ together. He felt incomplete now, without Angie.

And it was all the fault of that Vulcan woman. _She_ had been in command during the battle. It was her incompetence that had gotten Angie killed.

Nick had nursed his resentment of T'Pol in sullen silence since that day, cursing her presence on _Enterprise_, cursing the Vulcans for foisting her on Captain Archer in the first place, cursing Starfleet for making her Archer's first officer instead of Commander Tucker, who rightly deserved to be XO. And when it became clear that Tucker had fallen for her, Nick blamed her for putting a spell on the chief, for stringing him along. But Nick was alone in his disgust over their relationship—the rest of the engineering crew adored the idea. So he kept his thoughts to himself.

It was on Earth, after Angie's memorial, when Nick was on a drunken rant about Vulcans in general, and T'Pol in particular, that he'd been approached by a member of Terra Prime. The next few days had been a heady whirlwind—being whisked to the Orpheus mining complex on the Moon and welcomed with open arms by the sympathetic, like-minded Primers, feeling for the first time that he was among friends who understood his loss, his frustration. He didn't feel the need to censor himself with the Primers, not the way he did on _Enterprise_. So he talked a blue streak, about how T'Pol was rewarded for her ineptitude by being given a commission by Starfleet, how Tucker was making a fool of himself over her, how she would surely double-cross him sooner or later, just as her son Lorian had—

As soon as Nick explained about Lorian, he suddenly found himself face-to-face with none other than John Frederick Paxton, the great man himself. Paxton ushered Nick into his private office and asked him endless questions about Lorian. Admittedly, Nick didn't know very much. He'd heard that Phlox—the other Phlox—had made a human/Vulcan hybrid possible after some experimentation. He'd seen Tucker and Lorian together in engineering, seen how quickly the chief had accepted his "son's" existence, even taking quite a liking to him. But Lorian had turned out to be just as untrustworthy as any Vulcan, when he betrayed Captain Archer and almost destroyed _Enterprise_.

Paxton didn't seem surprised that the half-breed inherited the worst of his Vulcan parent. The news merely confirmed that interbreeding between Vulcans and humans would be disastrous. Paxton was only sorry that the vivid cautionary example of Lorian would be forever withheld from the public, classified by Starfleet along with time travel. But Nick's tale had shown him a new way to shake some sense into the world—and perhaps rescue Tucker from the clutches of the Vulcan woman as well. Paxton would create another half-breed creature...with Nick's help.

It had been a simple thing, really, to sneak into sickbay during the refit, with security fairly lax within the confines of Spacedock. Nick was just one more crewman scurrying to and fro among the workers. After a quick trip to the medical freezer to spirit away a portion of the bio-samples of Tucker and T'Pol, his sacred mission for Terra Prime was accomplished.

Once he had delivered the samples, Nick had another audience with Paxton, who solemnly thanked him for his contribution to the cause, and handed him an important new assignment: to act as Terra Prime's eyes and ears on _Enterprise_.

Nick duly reported back to Terra Prime when T'Pol returned from Vulcan married—to someone other than Tucker. Sure enough, she _had_ been stringing him along. Curiously, the two of them remained friends, though an almost physical wall of propriety flew up between them; Tucker's Southern honor, in full force. Too bad it wouldn't save him. As soon as Paxton's hybrid creature—one never said "child" or "baby" when referring to Paxton's project—was revealed to the world, Tucker would be viewed not only as unprofessional, but immoral: a married officer's lover. Hardly the standard Starfleet expected of its senior officers, or its war heroes. Nick felt badly for the chief, but Tucker had become an unfortunate casualty of war—a war humanity was fighting to preserve its own purity.

Then the other _Enterprise_ returned, and suddenly Lorian wasn't a classified secret any longer. And all of Nick's comforting new beliefs were thrown into turmoil.

With the chance to get a closer look at T'Pol's spawn, Nick volunteered to assist the refugee crew of the other _Enterprise_ by lending a hand in sickbay. He was surprised to find that Lorian didn't come off as a selfish, scheming Vulcan monster at all. The man was obviously injured and exhausted, but nevertheless concerned only with the well-being of his people. His Vulcan reserve wasn't stiff or off-putting either, but calm, barely concealing his grief over his dead mother.

Lorian's return triggered a shift in the chief's odd friendship with the Vulcan woman, too. During the Borderland mission, the two of them seemed drawn to each other like magnets, though they still avoided touching. That moony-eyed look was back on Tucker's face—Nick even overheard him mention Romeo and Juliet to her one day in engineering—and T'Pol was more personable and serene than she'd been in the Expanse. She was actually..._likable_. Nick was beginning to wonder whether he was as wrong about T'Pol as he had been about Lorian.

No—he couldn't be. T'Pol had killed Angie. That hadn't changed.

Nick pushed his memories and uncertainties aside, and focused on the simulator program. If T'Pol was still uneasy about Azati Prime now, so many months after the battle, surely it was a sign of her guilt. The battle sim would verify it. This evidence might even be enough to persuade Paxton to abandon his plan to create the creature. Tucker's career need not be ruined, after all; T'Pol would hang herself with Azati Prime.

He opened the scenario. It was the standard computer-generated battle sim, the kind of reconstruction routinely made for post-combat analysis. Nick inserted a data module into the console and set it to record. Then he selected Captain Archer's profile from the personnel database and entered it into the commander module.

He launched the simulation. The battle unfolded as a rotating three-dimensional nightmare, with data flashing on the screen to report the "commander's" decisions and orders, based on the program's interpretations of Archer's psych profile. The casualty list appeared at the bottom of the screen, and started growing.

* * *

As she and Lorian faced each other, Karyn felt all the emotions that had been building within her for the past four hours of whirlwind preparations...for the past two months of their courtship...in truth, for the past seventeen years she'd nurtured her secret love for Lorian. They filled her to overflowing now, too much to be harbored in a single heart. She could already feel tears welling in her eyes. _Shmoopy Archer romanticism_, she thought, as she tried to blink them back.

One tear escaped, spilling down her cheek. Before she could brush it away, Lorian touched his finger gently to her face, capturing the tear on his fingertip. She sensed a surge of emotion from him...love so deep and pure that it left her fighting back more tears. She leaned close to him. "I feel you," she whispered, her breath soft against his lips. She watched his face fill with awe as he realized what she meant.

Archer addressed the assemblage, reading from the parchment and notes that he had set on the podium before him. "In this vast Expanse of darkness and uncertainty, there is always hope for the future. And with hope, there is always love."

Karyn saw Lorian's eyes light with recognition. He'd recited those words himself over three decades ago, when he had married her parents. He looked pleased as Archer continued. "We have come together, in the presence of family and friends, to celebrate Lorian and Karyn's vows of marriage." He turned to Lorian. "Lorian, will you take Karyn to be your wedded wife, to love, cherish and ennoble her, to bestow upon her your heart's deepest devotion?"

Lorian gazed into Karyn's deep brown eyes, still glittering with unshed tears. "I will."

Archer looked to his great-granddaughter. "Karyn, will you take Lorian to be your wedded husband, to love, cherish, and ennoble him, to bestow upon him your heart's deepest devotion?"

Karyn's expression was radiant as she held Lorian's eyes. "I will."

"Please hold hands," Archer said. Karyn passed her bouquet to T'Pol, then took Lorian's hands in both of hers.

In the audience, Abbie Mayweather, hopeless romantic, was already sniffling. Tony had a handkerchief ready and waiting for his wife.

"Lorian, repeat after me," Archer went on. "'I choose you, Karyn, to be my wife...'"

Lorian repeated the vows, his resonant voice a bit rough with emotion. "I choose you, Karyn, to be my wife, to stand by your side, to support you and comfort you, to challenge and be challenged by you, to trust you in all ways and be faithful to you in all things."

"Karyn, repeat after me..."

Karyn glanced at her great-grandfather. There was a glow of happiness about him that, for this moment, banished every trace of the haunted anguish that had shadowed him these past months. They shared a smile, before Karyn turned back to Lorian and repeated her vows as Archer recited them. "I choose you, Lorian, to be my husband, to stand by your side, to support you and comfort you, to challenge and be challenged by you, to trust you in all ways and be faithful to you in all things."

Archer nodded to Trip and T'Pol. The best man and maid of honor handed the wedding rings to him.

Anna Hess and Michael Rostov were sitting together a few rows back, wearing twin dreamy smiles. "So beautiful," Hess murmured. Rostov nodded.

Archer placed the gold wedding band in Lorian's hand. "Lorian, as you place this ring on Karyn's finger, let her hear your heartsong."

Lorian froze, clutching the gold wedding band as he nervously held Karyn's left hand. He remembered this part of the ceremony, which Charlie and Olivia Archer had based on traditional Ikaaran rites. The groom and his bride were now to speak intimately of their love for each other as they exchanged rings. Lorian had never publicly revealed the depth of his feelings for Karyn, and now a room full of people was waiting for him to bare his soul. He found himself paralyzed by the same crippling shyness that plagued him as a child, all coping mechanisms forgotten.

He felt Karyn's other hand closing over his trembling fingers, holding them soothingly. As he felt her touch melting his anxiety away, she smiled tenderly at him, her eyes warm and reassuring. Perhaps she had sensed his panic. He yearned to feel her emotions as well. If only their empathic link went both ways! Soon now...tonight. When they were bonded, he would at last be able to feel the touch of her soul.

The thought tantalized him, even as it gave him peace, and the calm to speak. He focused on her, letting the rest of the assemblage fade away. "I never imagined I would know love. I fully expected to live the remainder of my life alone, dutiful and ascetic." He cocked his head wryly at Karyn, almost in reproach. "But you did surprise me with that kiss."

The guests broke into laughter. Karyn giggled, blushing sweetly. "I have an early memory of you," Lorian continued, "as a shy doll-child peeking out at me from behind your mother. You became a skilled crewman...my trusted first officer, touched by tragedy, as I had been...and my closest friend. I considered myself quite fortunate. But when you opened your heart to me, and awakened in me the first stirrings of love, you filled me with a joy I thought I would never know. You transformed me forever."

There were tears glistening in Karyn's eyes again. She looked indescribably beautiful to him. He held out the gold wedding band. "This ring, fashioned of Terran gold, etched with Vulcan script, speaks of love born of friendship. My father gave it to my mother, and now I give it to you."

Karyn's breath caught, and another tear coursed down her cheek. "As you wear it," Lorian said, "let us rejoice in our differences, and in the meaning and beauty created by our union." He slipped the gold band onto her finger. "With this ring, I pledge my life to your happiness."

She looked speechlessly at the ring, momentarily overcome. Then she smiled at him, before accepting the other wedding ring from Archer. "Karyn," he said, "as you place this ring on Lorian's finger, let him hear your heartsong."

With a start, Lorian recognized the characteristic rainbow sheen of the silvery ring. Karyn was giving him her father's ring, the ring that had been passed down from father to son for a hundred years. The realization overwhelmed him.

As Karyn took Lorian's left hand, she gazed serenely at him. "I have loved you all my life. I will love you all my life. You have been my hero, my commander, my teacher, my solace, and my best friend. The more I saw in you, the deeper I fell...your courage, your compassion, your sense of humor." He saw a merry sparkle come to her eyes. "Your fondness for swashbuckler movies. Your sexy dancing."

The crowd chuckled appreciatively, and Lorian felt himself blushing. Karyn's expression grew gentle. "Your shy charm...and your loneliness. But you weren't alone, love. I was holding you in my heart, waiting for the war to set you free...and dreaming about you. The reality is better than all my dreams."

Lorian swallowed hard, endeavoring to keep his welling emotions at bay, as Karyn held up the iridescent ring. "This ring of songstone, from the mountains of Ikaar, was blessed by the Spirits of the Skies, who grant the desires of the heart. It sings with the love of three generations past. As you wear it, let us celebrate our joining, and add our harmony to its song." She slid the ring onto his finger. "With this ring, I pledge my life to giving you joy."

They remained with hands clasped, regarding each other with contented adoration, as Archer spoke to the entire room. "Lorian and Karyn have pledged their faith and declared their unity. They are now joined in mutual esteem and devotion. I now pronounce that they are husband and wife." He smiled at Lorian. "You may kiss your bride."

Lorian pulled his wife—his wife!—to him, intending to give her a brief, chaste kiss, befitting a public setting such as this one. However, as soon as he touched his lips to hers, he felt all his decorous intentions crumbling. Then she parted her lips invitingly, and he was lost. He fell headlong into her kiss, cradling her in his arms, bending her back into a romantic dip. Karyn responded eagerly, caressing the back of his neck as she hummed contentedly into his mouth. Dimly, he heard Beau Greer leading the rest of the _E²_ crew in a lusty round of applause, punctuated with whoops and cheers.

* * *

Angie kept dying.

Nick stared at the screen, uncomprehending. He'd run the battle sim four times now, but no matter which personnel profile he plugged into the module as "Captain" during the battle—Archer, Tucker, Lt. Commander Reed, even the MACO leader, Major Hayes—the result was the same. The program dispassionately spat out a laundry list of casualties, and Angie's name was always on it.

Even more disturbing was that none of the other commander models had improved on T'Pol's actual performance during the real Azati Prime battle. The sim-Archer had exactly matched her casualty list of eighteen, down to the personnel named. With Tucker in command, twenty-four had died; with Reed, twenty-seven; Hayes, twenty-nine.

It had to be a fluke. Nick needed a reliable baseline. He set up one more sim, using the program's own Virtual Captain as the commander model. The computerized captain's decisions would be based on the Starfleet Officers Training program.

He launched the sim, scarcely even registering the applause and cheers coming from the monitors tuned to the ceremony in the cargo bay. He watched grimly as the battle played out again, as the casualty list mounted.

When the program ended, there were twenty dead. Including Angie.

T'Pol and Archer had out-performed the computer program. And Angie had died every time.

Nick removed his data module from Tucker's console and stared numbly at it. All the sims he'd run had been recorded onto it. He had his proof now...proof that T'Pol was a perfectly capable commander during the Azati Prime conflict. She was no more responsible for Angie's death than Archer or Tucker would have been, had they been sitting in the captain's chair.

Nick had been completely wrong about her.

What else had he been mistaken about? The Vulcans? Aliens? Terra Prime? John Paxton? But...Vulcans had murdered humans at the embassy. Nick was all mixed up now. He didn't know what to believe anymore.

* * *

In the front row, Catherine watched Lorian and Karyn's romantic smooch with delight. Now she had _two_ Vulcans in the family who knew how to please their mates. Beside her, Chuck smiled broadly. "Definitely a Tucker man," he observed, sending his wife bursting into laughter.

Nearby, Admiral Gardner looked on with a shocked smile, as Captain Hernandez shook her head in admiration. "'Enigmatic Commander Lorian,' my ass!" she said.

"What's that?" Gardner asked.

"It's a nickname the crew gave him on _Columbia_." Hernandez chuckled. "One that will be retired after today, I expect."

At the podium, T'Pol averted her eyes, not wishing to stare at her son and daughter-in-law during their moment of celebratory indulgence. She noticed Trip trading an amused glance with Archer. Then Trip's eyes met hers, and she felt the bond resonate warmly between them, aglow with parental contentment.

The newlyweds came up for air, still in each other's arms, turning to their guests with twin expressions of sublime, only slightly embarrassed joy. As _Trumpet Voluntary_ filled the air, the crew from engineering admired the Family portrait on display...the fairy-tale-worthy Lorian and Karyn, flanked by T'Pol and Tucker in their matching midnight blue, with Papa Archer centered behind them, decked out in his dress blues. Rostov double-checked to make sure Crewman Gaston was still taking pictures. They'd never see another tableau like this again.

The wedding guests gathered around the happy couple, offering congratulatory handshakes and hugs. Then Archer addressed the crowd. "We'll see you all back at the Starfleet compound for the reception. Everyone make sure you check with Lieutenant Hendley on your way out—he'll let you know how to get to your ships."

He signaled to Hendley, at the cargo bay doorway. The chief quartermaster gave the captain a crisp nod...and, as they had planned earlier, he surreptitiously began handing directions to Callahan's Jazz Club to the guests as they made their way out of the cargo bay.

Archer turned to Lorian and Karyn, casually easing their attention away from Hendley. "I have a little pull around here. I think I can get my hands on a shuttlepod, if you two need a lift planetside."

Karyn curtsied gracefully. "Thank you, kind sir."

Chuck and Catherine joined the Family at the podium, as T'Pol took Trip's proffered arm. Trip smiled sweetly at Archer. "Might we hitch a ride in your chariot, too...Papa?"

Archer arched an eyebrow. "Excuse me, _Commander_?"

"You can't 'Commander' your way out of this any longer," Trip grinned. "She's your great-granddaughter, and she just married my son."

Archer tried to look authoritative. "Let's get one thing straight—"

"O' course, if Papa is Karyn's own personal name for you, I'd be just as happy callin' you Grandpa," Trip said magnanimously.

Catherine's mouth dropped open. "Oh, my lord..." She dissolved into laughter, burying her face in Chuck's shoulder.

"This is gettin' way too strange for me," Chuck murmured.

Archer gave his best friend a mock scowl as he herded his family toward the door. "You've been waiting for this, haven't you? You've been lying in wait like a targ, getting ready to leap at me."

"You don't like Grandpa?" Trip asked innocently. "How about Pappy? Or Gramps? Or Pops?..."

-tbc-


	13. Let's Face the Music and Dance

**...Touching and Touched**

Disclaimer: _Star Trek: Enterprise_ is the property of Paramount Pictures, Inc. All original material herein is the property of its author.

A/N: Thanks again for taking the time to leave reviews. I'm glad you're enjoying the story, and it's rewarding for me (as well as enlightening) to see what you like about each chapter.

I thank pookha, tennisgirl, persianmouse, and the Vulcan Language Institute for help and inspiration with this chapter, and as always my betas Jenna, Stephanie, and TJinLOCA.

I make a few passing references to events that take place in couple of standalone stories I wrote that are set in the _E²-_verse, "The Storyteller" and "Childhood Is the Kingdom Where Nobody Dies." It's not necessary to read those stories to understand what's going on here, but they do serve as a bit of backstory.

All lyrics are the property and copyright of their respective rights holders. No infringement is intended, nor is any profit sought from their inclusion herein.

Song credits:  
_Night and Day_ - Cole Porter  
_Blue Skies_ - Irving Berlin  
_Once Upon a Dream_ - lyrics by Sammy Fain and Jack Lawrence  
_The Other Side_ - David Gray

* * *

Chapter 13: _Let's Face the Music and Dance_

As it turned out, the wedding party was the last group to leave _Enterprise. _They had to wait for all the guests' ships to be moved out of the launch bay before Shuttlepod One had a clear path for departure. Archer wasn't complaining, of course; it wouldn't do for the newlyweds to show up at their surprise reception before everyone else had arrived.

As the extended Family—the senior Tuckers included—waited in the corridor outside the launch bay, the extra few minutes gave Karyn and Lorian a chance to admire each other's wedding outfits. Catherine wished that guy with the camera had followed them here. Lorian's face, as he got his first real look at the delicately alluring construction of Karyn's gown, was priceless.

Karyn cooed appreciatively at the rich ivory brocade and intricate blue embroidery of Lorian's outer robe. "Where did Soval find these?"

Lorian struggled to tear his eyes away from the enticing view of Karyn's décolletage. "These were the ambassador's own wedding robes."

"He saved them all these years? How romantic!" Karyn took a step back, to better show off her gown. "This is an heirloom, too. It was Esilia's wedding dress." She turned slowly, giving Lorian a generous view of her hips, covered only by the thin latticework of blue lacing, then stopped with her back to him. "You see how it's designed to show off the spinal ridges?"

Lorian didn't answer...not with his voice, anyway. Instead, Karyn felt a burst of emotion from him—desire that flowed through her in a warm, tingling wave. His eyes were lingering on the lacing that exposed her faintly ridged spine, all the way down to the curve of her derrière, where the soft fabric clung delectably to her figure until the skirt billowed forth at the hipline. She could tell he was struggling to maintain his Vulcan composure.

She smiled invitingly over her shoulder at him. "I sense that you like it," she said softly.

His eyes flew up to meet hers, and he blushed. "The design is...quite..."

"Sexy?" she suggested.

He looked away as his blush deepened, and she felt his desire intensify. "That is not what I was going to say." He hesitated, then frowned and swallowed. "I do not recall what I was going to say."

She turned to face him again, giving him another eyeful of her low-cut bodice. "You wouldn't believe how long it took me to get into this," she said, her voice low and silky.

He found himself staring at the lacings between her breasts. He blinked, forcing himself to focus on her face. "I can imagine."

"I'm counting on you to get me out of it much more efficiently," she added.

He arched an eyebrow at her. "You are incorrigible."

She smiled. "Just giving you something to look forward to."

He slipped his arms around her waist. "Unnecessary. I am already looking forward to tonight, my bondmate-to-be."

Karyn felt a shift in his emotion, from lustful to loving. How rare must it be for a non-Vulcan woman, telepathically null, to be given these fleeting glimpses into the heart of her beloved? She was amazed all over again at the unique circumstances that had forged the empathic link between them...as unique as Lorian himself.

As his emotional resonance faded, Karyn felt the loss more keenly than ever. She longed to feel his presence with her always...but not even Soval could say what form their bond would take. She could only wait, and hope.

* * *

Archer landed the shuttlepod at the San Francisco shuttleport rather than at Starfleet, explaining that he needed to make a stop on the way. As to where, or for what, he was less than forthcoming.

Karyn peered over his shoulder from the back seat as he navigated the ground car north, with the bay in glorious view off to the right. "We're not headed inland," she observed. "That rules out Golden Gate Park."

Archer rolled his eyes. "I should've known better than to let a pilot sit in the back seat."

"Fisherman's Wharf?" she prompted. "Ghirardelli Square?"

"It's _supposed_ to be a surprise."

T'Pol and Trip were in the back, next to Lorian and Karyn. "You would do well to teach her some meditation techniques," T'Pol remarked to her son.

"I have endeavored to do so," Lorian replied. "However, she is far too boisterous most of the time."

"At least give us a hint," Karyn persisted, still at Archer's shoulder.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "If you keep hovering like that, I might just skip the surprise altogether."

"Okay, okay." Reluctantly, Karyn settled back in her seat. "Sitting back, shutting up."

Archer nodded. "That's better."

Trip observed Karyn's quiescence with admiration. "That's a pretty neat trick," he commented to Archer.

"Indeed," Lorian agreed. "I shall remember this strategy in future."

Karyn's mouth fell open in mute protest. Chuck's muffled laughter, coming from the front seat, didn't help. Catherine punched her husband in the arm to quiet him, as a scowl darkened Karyn's beautiful features. "I'm putting up with _three_ Tucker men teasing me," she told Archer. "Have mercy."

"All right," Archer relented with a chuckle. "I'm swinging by that jazz club where you and Lorian took us all, before we left for Vulcan. The one a few blocks from Broadway."

"Callahan's?" Lorian asked.

"That's the place," Archer said. "Callahan was kind enough to set aside a few hand-picked bottles of champagne for me, for the reception."

"You went there a lot when you were courting, didn't you?" Trip asked the kids.

Karyn snuggled closer to her new husband. "We had our first date there...our first dance..."

"Our duties on _Columbia_ have kept us away for some time," Lorian admitted.

"Then why not stop in with me?" Archer suggested casually. "You can tell Callahan the good news."

"And show off your clothes_,_" Catherine enthused. Karyn smiled.

* * *

As the group alighted outside Callahan's, Archer spotted the security detachment he'd asked Reed to deploy, already standing watch. They wore civilian dress to avoid drawing undue attention, and were scattered strategically around the perimeter of the club, on the lookout for xenophobes and any other would-be rabble-rousers.

As soon as the security personnel saw the wedding party, they unobtrusively turned away, melting into the scenery to keep from spoiling the surprise. Reed met Archer's eyes and gave him a small nod before turning away as well.

-- -- --

The front dining room was quiet and empty except for a corner booth, where Kyle sat with Callahan, a pile of invoices spread out before them to make it look as if they were working. They both looked up as the door opened, spilling late-afternoon sunlight across their table, revealing the silhouette of Captain Jonathan Archer.

Kyle was all ready to play the role of surprised employee. But when she actually saw Lorian and Karyn, entering hand-in-hand behind the captain, she forgot all about her carefully prepared reaction. She'd never seen Vulcan robes look so good on a man before. And Karyn's wedding gown was stunning, not to mention sexy as hell. "Oh my God, who said you were coming, too?" Kyle sputtered happily. "You're gorgeous! Like you walked right out of a storybook!"

Karyn smiled shyly, while Lorian's eyes twinkled at the compliments. Kyle looked expectantly from one to the other. "So? Are you married?"

They nodded together. Honestly, they were so _cute_. "Captain Archer performed the ceremony a short while ago," Lorian replied.

"Congratulations!" Callahan boomed, shaking Lorian's hand and giving Karyn a peck on the cheek. He surveyed the rest of the arrivals. "I see the captain brought a whole carload o' folks to tote his champagne."

Archer made introductions all around. Kyle saw that he was back in uniform, but it was a different style than the one in all the pictures she'd seen. Classier. It made him look even more handsome, if that was possible. It fit him like a glove, showing off his toned, muscular physique, his broad shoulders and trim waist, his gorgeous ass—

Whoa, where had _that_ come from?

Kyle shook her head. Trying to shake some sense back into it, she supposed. What was she thinking? She _wasn't_ thinking, that was the problem. Never mind that Jonathan Archer was the most famous man on the planet. He was taken—his heart already spoken for, given long ago to his career.

Commander Tucker had brought his parents. They were both friendly, folksy, and quite human, but Catherine was far too young to be Lorian's mother, which shot to hell Kyle and Callahan's hypothesis that Tucker and Lorian might be half-brothers. Kyle knew only that Lorian and Karyn had described Tucker as "family," but nobody in this bunch ever filled in details.

Callahan shook hands with Chuck and Catherine. "Your son's a mighty fine dancer. I don't suppose you two had anything to do with that?"

"We only taught him everything he knows," Chuck replied modestly.

Callahan turned to Catherine, indicating Chuck with a nod of his head. "Does he still take you dancin'?"

"Not nearly enough," Catherine declared.

Callahan shook his head reproachfully at Chuck. "For shame, sir."

Chuck looked sidelong at his wife. "I can see we'll be spending a lotta time at this place while we're in San Francisco."

Callahan grinned. "My work is done, then." He moved on to Lorian and Karyn, proceeding to fuss over them like a proud papa bear.

As Kyle scooped up her decoy paperwork, she noticed Archer watching Callahan with the Lovebirds. The captain seemed happy enough...but wistful too, somehow, as he looked at Karyn. He was with his family, his friends, but Kyle got the impression that he felt terribly alone.

Suddenly, she realized he was looking at her. Those green eyes of his were more beautiful than she remembered.

They exchanged smiles. "Nice outfit," Kyle said.

"Dress uniform," Archer said. "Befitting my role as officiator of the wedding." He nodded toward Kyle's own ensemble. "I like yours, too."

With the reception in mind, she had dressed up for the evening, choosing a white silk blouse with lace at the throat and cuffs, topped off by a form-fitting vest of fine Scottish wool in the blue and green hunting plaid of Clan MacMillan. "Thanks," she replied.

"The family tartan?" At her nod, Archer smiled. "The blue matches your eyes. Very becoming."

The unexpected compliment gave Kyle a pleasant little flush.

That was all they had time for; the boss was joining them. "So, Callahan," Archer said, "what have you come up with for me?"

Callahan smiled. "Somethin' you're gonna like. Got it on ice in back. Right this way." Callahan and Kyle crossed to the big double doors that led to the main club room. Callahan beckoned with a meaty paw to the rest of Archer's group. "Don't stand on ceremony! I never pass up a chance to show off my place. 'Sides, the band's in there settin' up, and they'll wanna see the newlyweds."

The Family joined Callahan, subtly maneuvering to make sure Lorian and Karyn were up front. Kyle and Callahan pushed open the double doors...

...but instead of the deserted club room they were expecting, Lorian and Karyn found themselves facing a snazzily decorated wonderland, filled with wedding guests. There were flowers everywhere, buffet tables laden with hors d'oeuvres, and a magnificent three-tiered wedding cake decorated with pale blue icing that perfectly matched Karyn's gown. As the band launched into a fanfare, the guests hailed the newlyweds with cheers and applause.

With stunned delight, Lorian and Karyn moved into the crowd of well-wishers. Kyle took her place behind the bar, sending out a phalanx of waiters with trays of champagne—and for the Vulcans and teetotalers, sparkling _pla-savas_ juice, made from a sweet berry native to Vulcan.

As Soval and the rest of the extended Family entered the fray in the newlyweds' wake, Callahan turned to Archer. "Kinda slapdash, sir, but we got food, drink, great music, and atmosphere to burn. I hope it'll do."

Archer laughed softly in disbelief. "It'll do, Callahan. The place looks marvelous."

Callahan pointed toward the stage. "That big table up front is for the wedding party. Ya got the run of the place for as long as you need, sir—I closed the joint down for ya. 'Private party'."

Archer was overwhelmed. "I didn't expect you to do all this."

Callahan shrugged. "Ya didn't say I couldn't."

"At least let me pay for—"

Callahan cut him off firmly. "None o' that. This is my weddin' gift to the Lovebirds. Got it?"

Archer nodded in graceful acquiescence. "Got it. And thank you. This means the world to me. For Karyn, and her husband." As he continued to admire the sumptuous surroundings, his eyes fell on the wedding cake. "That cake alone is...wow."

Callahan laughed. "Don't thank me for that. Thank Chef."

"You have a chef?"

"No no, your Chef," Callahan said. "From your ship."

Archer looked again...and he spotted Chef's tall, angular figure behind the buffet tables. Chef was in classic overseer mode, clad in pristine white, his long blond hair combed back from his patrician features for maximum intimidation, his lips perpetually pursed as his sharp eyes continually swept the impeccably-laid-out hors d'oeuvres trays. At the same time, he watched over the wedding cake like a hawk. How he had gotten the color right, with Karyn's gown under wraps until the ceremony, Archer had no idea...but Chef had ways, mysterious and inexplicable, for accomplishing such wonders.

Archer turned back to Callahan. "How...?"

Callahan shrugged. "We were puttin' things together, and—now, I can do food for all kindsa aliens, you name 'em. Been doin' it for years. But I was flat outta recipes for a lip-smackin' vegetarian wedding cake big enough to feed a mess o' people, that would be ready in three hours."

"What about the Vulcan embassy?"

Callahan smirked. "I thought o' them. For about two seconds. Had a good laugh. Then I remembered you had a resident Vulcan on your ship—your Commander T'Pol. So I called up and asked to speak to the galley chef."

Archer winced. "He prefers simply 'Chef'."

Callahan raised a wry eyebrow. "Mmmyeah, I got that from him first thing. That Chef o' yours, he likes everything just so, don't he?"

"He is quite the perfectionist," Archer said diplomatically.

"Tell me, Captain. When you two disagree, who wins?"

Archer frowned thoughtfully. "I'm not sure." Callahan burst into hearty laughter

* * *

Chef maneuvered past the wedding party's table, whispering into Trip's ear as he went by. As if goosed, Trip jumped to his feet. Delicately, he tapped his champagne glass with a fork to get the crowd's attention. "Time for the toasts! Everybody get a glass of something before the Best Man starts blathering."

With glasses of champagne and _pla-savas_ juice in hand, the crowd quieted down as Trip faced Lorian and Karyn at the head of the table. "A truer love I have never seen than the love you two have for each other," he began. "It reminds us all of what love can be, and why it came to be: so two people can still be themselves, but at the same time, be _more_. They can be part of a greater whole, two halves of one heart, one soul. Love like that lasts forever." He smiled warmly at the couple as he raised his glass. "To Lorian and Karyn's forever-love."

The guests all saluted the newlyweds with their glasses. "To forever-love," they said in unison. Karyn and Lorian exchanged smiles as they toasted each other and drank.

As waiters smoothly scurried from table to table, topping off glasses, Trip turned to T'Pol. "Your turn."

She raised an eyebrow questioningly. "I beg your pardon?"

"The Maid of Honor gives a toast, too."

T'Pol nodded and stood. Silently, she considered, and quickly discarded, several traditional felicitations, until an appropriate toast presented itself, at which point she turned to her son and daughter. _Yes...I regard Karyn as a daughter now._ The realization pleased her. "For too long, you lived in the shadow of war," she said to the couple. "You selflessly dedicated your lives to fighting this war, which could have destroyed all that we know. In helping to put an end to it, you found, in each other, a new life together." She raised her glass. "I wish you peace and long life."

"Peace and long life," the guests echoed. Lorian was especially taken by his mother's artful use of the traditional Vulcan salutation.

Trip looked across the table to Soval. "Perhaps Uncle Soval would care to make a toast?"

Soval shut his eyes briefly, allowing a faint sigh of long-suffering to escape him. Trip almost laughed out loud. "Excuse me. The venerable _Ambassador_ Soval."

Soval nodded, the very portrait of dignified Vulchritude. "That would be agreeable."

Alas, no one had checked with Chef. Storm clouds of disapproval were already gathering over his brow as he bustled back to the wedding party's table. Paying no heed to whatever interstellar incident he might be causing, he hissed quietly to Trip, "Uncles do _not_ make toasts."

"Well, this one's gonna," Trip replied pleasantly, his sunniness keeping the clouds at bay.

"He isn't even her real uncle," Chef pointed out indignantly. "Traditionally, only the Best Man and the Maid of Honor—"

"We're gonna buck tradition, 'kay?" Trip said, with a smile that was positively Phlox-like.

Chef blanched. Trip might as well have suggested serving an entrée of flayed puppies, or red wine with fish. Now Soval was the one who looked amused—as amused as Vulcans cared to look, at any rate—raising a silver eyebrow with finesse above an almost-but-not-quite smile.

With Chef scandalized into silence, Trip turned calmly back to Soval. "Ambassador, you have the floor."

The old Vulcan rose smoothly to his feet, his expression thoughtful as he regarded Lorian. He chose his words carefully; there were many in the room who were not privy to _E²'s_ actual, classified history. "I recall the day we first met, Commander. You were troubled by your failure to complete a certain mission during the war. Though we resolved your disquiet during that initial meeting, I have often wondered whether you ever considered the consequences had you achieved success."

Lorian frowned faintly in puzzlement. "I do not speak of the war itself," Soval went on, "but of less direct effects, subtle but profound in their own fashion: individuals who would never meet in the future that would have been cut short by your success...couples who would not marry...children who would remain forever unborn."

With a look of startled realization, Lorian turned to his parents. Soval knew then that the message he was attempting to impart had been understood. If the first Xindi probe's attack on Earth had been prevented, Commander Tucker would not have been distraught over his dead sister, and in need of neuropressure from T'Pol to ease the nightmares and insomnia that plagued him. T'Pol, in turn, would not have been exposed to trellium-D in the Expanse, and in need of an outlet for her suddenly rampant emotions. Without their mutual afflictions, or their mutual compassion, to draw them closer, the two would likely have remained sparring colleagues, nothing more...especially after T'Pol married Koss.

Soval nodded toward Lorian's bride. "Soon after I met Lieutenant Archer, for example, I sensed an extraordinary connection between the two of you— unique in my experience, rich and full of promise. It exists solely because you are here...because you did not complete your mission."

Lorian was gazing at Karyn now, almost overcome, as if he were imagining he'd almost lost her. As he took her hand, Soval could almost hear what the younger man must be thinking: if _Enterprise_ had not traveled into the Expanse as a result of the attack on Earth, it would not have been flung into the past. Captain Archer would never have met Esilia, and there would be no Archers of Ikaaran descent...no Karyn.

"Therefore," Soval continued, "to say that you failed is a less than accurate statement at best. Rather, I would say that...you _lived_." He raised his glass. "My wish for both of you is to live long, and prosper."

As the room resounded with the ambassador's toast, Lorian swallowed hard, clearly moved. Karyn squeezed his hand, giving him a radiant smile. Their eyes never left each other as they touched glasses and drank together.

* * *

Chef was back at his defensive position beside the wedding cake, guarding it as if it were a holy relic, slapping would-be tasters' hands away. Archer couldn't resist. "So what's next?" he asked, loud enough for Chef to overhear. "The bouquet toss? The dancing?"

"Certainly not!" Chef huffed. He regarded Archer with undisguised pity. Or was it disgust? Archer could never tell with Chef. "One can see that you've not been to a wedding in quite some time, Captain. If ever."

Archer tried his best to look chagrined. "I guess it has been a while."

The _Enterprise_ crewmembers in attendance watched the exchange with amusement. They'd all been on the receiving end of Chef's dressings-down at one time or another, and it was grand watching the captain make himself a willing victim.

"Take my advice, Captain, I beseech you," Chef said wearily. "Keep to your heroics, or whatever it is that you do on the bridge. Let better minds handle the important matters of ceremony, hmm?"

Archer studied Chef through narrowed eyes. "You're still miffed at me about the new mess hall, aren't you?"

Chef folded his arms. "It hasn't been the same since those Spacedock jerry-riggers rebuilt it."

"I had them install the latest technology—"

"Technology!" Chef snorted. "Have you tasted the swill that sorry excuse for a replicator passes off for coffee?"

"No one expects it to be as good as yours," Archer said reasonably.

"I should hope not!"

Archer gave him a conspiratorial smile. "Think of it this way, Chef. That replicator will ensure that the crew never forgets to appreciate _you_."

Chef thought it over and finally nodded. "That will do." His dignity restored, he gathered up Lorian and Karyn and brought them to stand beside the wedding cake. "Time for the bride and groom to cut the cake," he announced brightly. As he handed the knife to Karyn, he paused to give Archer a doleful shake of his head, and the _Enterprise_ crew broke up.

Lorian observed, hands clasped behind his back, as Karyn lined the knife up over the cake. Chef patiently unfolded one of Lorian's hands and placed it over Karyn's. "You do it together, Commander."

"She is quite capable on her own," Lorian assured him, with some puzzlement.

Karyn giggled. "It's traditional."

"Ah. Then by all means, I shall join you." They cut the cake together. Karyn placed a slice on a plate and held it between them. Lorian glanced at the wedding guests, who were watching with inordinate interest. "I'm aware that it is customary for the guests to witness the cake-tasting ritual...but do they expect to see something other than the ingesting of cake?"

Karyn shrugged. "Some couples get rowdy and shove cake up each other's noses. They think it's funny."

Lorian couldn't help but wince. "You are not one of that ilk?" he asked warily.

With a smile, Karyn broke off a morsel of cake. "Far from it." She held the cake to his lips.

Hyper-aware of their audience, Lorian shyly opened his mouth. She slid the confection inside, letting her fingers linger on his lips for a moment. As the icing dissolved on his tongue, Lorian tasted a mingling of cake and Karyn, both light, sweet caresses in his mouth. It was a surprisingly intimate experience.

He took a bite-sized piece of cake from the plate and offered it to her. She held his eyes as she opened her mouth, letting him place the cake between her lips. She closed them, encompassing the cake and his fingers. He felt her tongue tickling his fingertips as he slid them free. Before he could draw away, she captured his hand, licking a trace of icing off his thumb. He gasped softly as an involuntary tremor of pleasure jolted through him at her touch.

Michael Rostov watched, slack-jawed, with Anna Hess from a few tables away. He swallowed around his dry throat. "Do they serve cold showers with the cake?"

"Sign me up," Hess murmured. "Best cake-tasting _ever_."

Behind the happy couple, Chef looked on in etiquettorial ecstasy. After signaling the waiters to begin cutting the cake and serving the guests, he triumphantly escorted the newlyweds back to their table. Pointedly looking down his aquiline nose at Archer, he proclaimed, "_That_ is how it should be done."

"Fussbudget," Archer said under his breath.

"Philistine," Chef sniffed, before repairing to his buffet tables once more.

* * *

Admiral Gardner and Captain Hernandez showed up a few minutes later, cake in hand, to present the newlyweds with wedding gifts. Captain Hernandez's present was a direct order not to report back for duty aboard _Columbia_ for seventy-two hours. As Karyn and Lorian gladly accepted this unexpected honeymoon, the Admiral presented his gift: a three-day stay at a VIP suite at the Starfleet guest quarters. The suite was on the top floor of the tower, with a sweeping view of the bay; Gardner had picked it out himself.

"Well now," Trip grinned to Lorian and Karyn, "seein' as how you're free all day tomorrow, how about lunch?"

"Belay that," Gardner stepped in. "You're busy tomorrow, Commander. You, too, T'Pol. The Starfleet inquiry board meets at 1000 hours. Be prepared to be grilled all day."

"Tomorrow?" Trip turned to T'Pol with a nervous little smile. "Here we go, then."

She nodded, with a similar expression of uneasy anticipation. "Indeed."

"I'd like to testify on their behalf," Archer told Gardner.

"I, too," Soval put in.

"By all means," Gardner said, twirling his fork in invitation. "The more the merrier."

"If Karyn and I can be of any assistance," Lorian said, "we would be glad to add our voices to yours."

"Thank you all," T'Pol replied, with a nod of gratitude. She and Trip were taking care not to indulge in public displays of affection this evening, but for bondmates, it was not a disadvantage. She felt her husband's mental embrace as strongly as if he were putting his arms around her. Their connection soothed her disquiet, reminding her that they were already wed, no matter what decision Starfleet HQ would make regarding the feasibility of a legal, publicly acknowledged marriage.

-- -- --

Kyle could see the wedding party's table from the bar. Admiral Gardner was there now. And, Kyle noticed with a pang of disappointment, so was the woman Archer had danced with so chummily on the night Lorian and Karyn had first brought him to Callahan's.

Kyle couldn't help noticing, though, that Archer was significantly _not_ standing anywhere near The Woman. Were they keeping their relationship on the q.t.? Playing it cool, to give the world at large the impression that they weren't involved?

She saw their eyes meet a couple of times. The Woman's expression had a polite friendliness about it...not what one would expect of a lover, or even one pretending not to be. Archer's face was quietly pleasant, but Kyle read something very different from his body language. He was pulling away from The Woman, physically making himself move away every time he laid eyes on her. What was going on there?

-- -- --

"Lorian, answer me a question," Hernandez was saying. "I know that the doctored _E²_ personnel file I have for you on _Columbia_ lists your only name as Lorian, in keeping with your official designation as a full-blooded Vulcan. But I'm curious..._are_ you a Tucker?"

"Of course he's a Tucker!" Chuck said stoutly. "Just because he goes by his Vulcan name, doesn't mean he's not Trip's son."

"Lorian is not a Vulcan name," Lorian said mildly. His statement was met by dumbfounded surprise all around the table—save from Karyn, who already knew.

Chuck was the first to find his voice. "Is it human?"

Lorian hesitated. "Not precisely."

"Well, don't leave us hangin'!" Catherine prompted. "Tell us a story, darlin'."

As Lorian regarded the ring of expectant faces, he found himself thinking back to an evening of Storytelling in the children's dormitory on _Enterprise,_ when he related this same tale to a circle of eager listeners. "You few here are aware that my parents' quest to have a child was a long and difficult one," he began. "There were years of research and experiments, hopes, disappointments...losses. Even my mother and I nearly died while she was in labor with me."

Everyone at the table listened in absorbed silence, while the happy buzz of the reception continued around them.

Lorian gestured to his fair hair, pointed ears, and startlingly blue eyes. "When I was born, my appearance was unique. Neither a human nor a Vulcan name seemed a proper fit. Then my father remembered a book." He turned to Catherine. "You read it to him when he was a child. It was a fantasy written centuries ago, about a land of elves and wizards and enchantment."

Catherine brightened as she realized. _"The Lord of the Rings."_

Lorian nodded. "There was a magical forest, into which evil could not enter..."

"The land of gold and dreams," Trip said softly, remembering. "Lórien." He smiled shyly at his son. "I thought of that?"

"I always considered your choice quite inspired," Lorian said.

Trip's smile widened giddily. "I'll be damned."

Lorian could not help but smile as well, charmed by his father's reaction. The rest of the listeners were equally taken by the story. Lorian turned to Hernandez. "My full name is Lorian Tucker. However, because my appearance was more Vulcan than human, people on the ship began to address me in the Vulcan fashion, as simply Lorian. It seemed appropriate to me as well."

Hernandez gave Karyn an apologetic little shrug. "On the record, you'll have to remain Lieutenant Archer, wife of the Vulcan Commander Lorian, to be consistent with his personnel file."

"I understand." Karyn slipped her arm through her husband's. "Lorian's wife is all I ever wanted to be anyway."

Lorian put his hand over hers. "However, off the record, your classified name—your married name—shall be Karyn Tucker," he told her. "If you wish it to be so."

Her deep brown eyes were soft and warm with affection. "Yes...I wish it to be so."

* * *

Karyn sent her bouquet sailing high in the air, with commendable momentum, Lorian thought. It flew in a graceful arc toward the knot of unmarried young ladies gathered on the dance floor—most of them from _E²,_ with a smattering of junior personnel from _Enterprise's_ engineering crew and the Starfleet compound.

As the bouquet fell, a dozen squealing girls launched themselves at it. The bouquet landed in the grasp of Zoey Lyonesse, a doe-eyed lass of eighteen from _E²_, and the most avid listener of Trip and T'Pol's love story, Lorian recalled. She squealed with delight as she hugged the armload of flowers to her, accepting the congratulations of the other girls. Lorian understood that, according to tradition—there seemed to be an extravagant number of traditions inherent in human social rituals—Zoey was now destined to be the next person to marry.

The young lady turned breathlessly toward the gaggle of youths watching from the perimeter, smiling brightly at her beau, Lucien LaCoeur. As his companions commenced roundly teasing him, Lucien's expression froze somewhere between anticipation and terror. Apparently he put much stock in this bouquet-catching ritual.

Callahan stepped onto the dance floor, gently shooing the girls to the sidelines with their gents. "Okay, folks, grab your partners an' get ready for my favorite part o' the party—the dancing! The newlyweds are first, o' course." He beckoned to Lorian and Karyn. "What'll it be, kids?"

Lorian was at a loss. "Evidently this is another tradition of which I am unaware."

"The newlyweds get the first dance solo," Callahan explained. "To _their_ song."

Karyn and Lorian glanced at each other. "We don't have an 'our song'," Karyn admitted to Callahan.

"Not to worry," he assured her. "Don an' I will come up with somethin' apropos." He crossed to the stage and exchanged whispers with the bandleader and Sammy, the vocalist. A moment later, the band launched into a rich, romantic melody. As Lorian swept his wife into his arms, Sammy began to sing.

_When somebody loves you  
__It's no good unless he loves you – all the way  
__Happy to be near you  
__When you need someone to cheer you – all the way..._

The newlyweds danced across the parquet floor with sinuous grace, holding each other close, Karyn's opalescent blue veil fluttering around them like faerie-dust as they dipped and turned. The guests watched from the sidelines in delight.

_Taller than the tallest tree is  
__That's how it's got to feel  
__Deeper than the deep blue sea is  
__That's how deep it goes – if it's real..._

"Forever-love," Karyn sighed happily as they danced. "I like the sound of that."

"Mortality will likely interfere with such a scenario," Lorian remarked.

"Not if you believe in reincarnation and the eternal togetherness of soulmates."

Lorian was charmed. "Is that what you believe?"

"Ikaarans have always considered reincarnation to be the most sensible setup," Karyn said. "A single lifetime is simply too short to learn everything one needs to know."

"True enough."

She held him a little closer. "And we _are_ soulmates."

"Indeed yes, beloved." Lorian's baritone voice was soft and intimate.

"It's not at all logical."

"Irrelevant." He bent her into a dip, keeping his face close to hers. "I find the idea of infinite togetherness appealing as well."

_Through the good or lean years  
__And for all the in between years – come what may..._

He righted her, and they continued to dance. "Let's see," Karyn mused thoughtfully. "I'm twenty-six. I have a good seventy years left in me. You're 101..."

"Phlox told me that my physiological makeup indicated a lifespan approaching the Vulcan norm," Lorian said. "He estimated I might yet reach the age of 175."

Karyn smiled. "Then if we're lucky, we'll die in each other's arms."

-- -- --

As she observed Lorian and Karyn dancing, T'Pol felt Trip's pride...but she could tell that he was unsettled as well. "What troubles you?" she asked.

When he turned to her, she saw in his eyes the sadness that she had been sensing. "I could live a hundred years and it wouldn't be long enough," he sighed.

"By whose measure?"

"It's already happened," he said soberly. "Lorian told me and Dad how his birth father died. His mom—when the bond was severed, it almost killed her."

So this was the cause of his distress. "But she did not die," T'Pol said.

"She had Lorian there with her, and the Cap'n. But what happens to you when I..." Trip's brow creased with his frustration and pain. "C'mon, we both know you're gonna outlive me by sixty years, at least. Doesn't it bother you, being married to a short-lived human who's cheating you out of a lifelong mate?"

T'Pol was calm. "It does not concern me."

Trip still looked troubled. "But it's not fair."

"Did you not tell me once that we do not choose our soulmates?" she gently chided him. "My feelings for you happened. They were not predicated on your longevity. If you died tomorrow, I would know we had had today, and I would be content."

He looked as if he wished to throw his arms around her. He could not, of course, not here. Instead, she felt his fierce embrace through the bond, so full of love and gratitude that it nearly took her breath away. "I love you, _t'hai'la_," he whispered.

She returned his mental touch, surrounding his essence with hers, close and comforting. "And I you, _t'hai'la_," she said softly in reply.

_But if you'll let me love you  
__It's for sure I'm gonna love you – all the way, all the way._

As the music ended, Lorian bent Karyn back into one of their trademark sultry dips, as her shimmering gown and his robes settled around them like a blue and ivory cloud. They had more than a few of the wedding guests adding dreamy sighs to their applause.

Callahan stepped forward and offered Karyn his arm. Lorian graciously handed her over and retreated to the sidelines. "Time for the Father's Dance, little lady," Callahan told Karyn. "Only problem is, we don't have a Father of the Bride, may he rest in peace. You got somebody in mind to sub for him?"

"As a matter of fact..." Karyn crossed to the wedding party's table and took Archer by the hand. "Captain? Would you do me the honor of being my Father of the Bride?"

"I'd love to," Archer smiled. As he escorted her onto the dance floor, he called out to the bandleader. "Play _Blue Skies._" With a flourish, he pirouetted Karyn into his arms and began leading her in a graceful turn around the floor as Sammy and the band launched into the song.

_I was blue, just as blue as I could be  
Ev'ry day was a cloudy day for me  
Then good luck came a-knocking at my door  
Skies were gray but they're not gray anymore..._

When Sammy reached the refrain, Archer joined in, singing softly to Karyn in a light, pure tenor, making her smile.

_Blue skies, smiling at me  
Nothing but blue skies do I see  
Bluebirds singing a song  
Nothing but bluebirds all day long..._

As other couples joined them on the dance floor, Karyn eyed Archer speculatively. "Well?"

"Well what?" he asked.

"When are _you_ going to settle down and get married?"

How Archer longed to do just that. If only... But he didn't want to put more of a damper on the day than he already had. "Me? The intrepid explorer? The conqueror of the Xindi?" he protested, with exaggerated bluster. "What makes you think I want to settle down?"

Karyn saw right through him though, as usual. "I've been watching you, Papa...the way you've been looking at me, looking at my dress...Esilia's dress. You want this too...a wife, a family."

Archer didn't deny it. He couldn't, not to Karyn. "Didn't you hear? I was just thrown over for a sexy young starship."

Karyn tossed her head dismissively. "That only means Captain Hernandez wasn't the right woman for you."

"What makes you think there is a 'right woman' for me?" he asked. "This isn't the Expanse."

"It doesn't have to be," she replied. "There's no law that says you have to be alone all your life."

"It's not that simple, honey," Archer said. "I have responsibilities to my ship, my crew—"

"My great-grandfather Jonathan was a fine captain, _and_ a fine husband and father," Karyn said with conviction. "You can balance the priorities without shirking any of them, because you _did_."

He wanted to believe her.

"I've thought about this," she went on, serene in her certainty. "The key is an understanding wife—someone who realizes that when you're on duty, you belong to your ship and your crew, and when you're off duty, you're all hers."

Archer smiled doubtfully. "Not too many of those, I don't think."

"That's why captains give up and settle for being married to their ships!" Karyn said in exasperation. "But it's really so _simple_. What you do is like...being in law enforcement, or emergency services, or the military. A starship captain is in service to a high ideal. You need a woman who respects that ideal, who is willing to share you with it. They _do_ exist. Esilia was such a woman."

Archer had to admit that Karyn was making perfect sense, which was both intriguing and frightening, since it was getting his hopes up. "And how do you know that?"

"Everyone knew!" Karyn replied. "She was Esilia Archer, the captain's wife—the one every woman wanted to emulate. Plus, I asked Grandmother Madisen about her."

"You asked about my wife?" These conversations about his alternate self always made Archer feel a little schizophrenic.

Karyn shrugged. "Well, as soon as I knew I was going to _marry_ a starship captain, I needed to know what being a starship captain's wife was like."

"Just how old were you when you started asking?"

She thought for a moment. "About ten."

Archer couldn't help but laugh. He stopped in the middle of the dance floor and hugged her. "You're something else."

She smiled brightly up at him, undaunted by his good-natured skepticism. "Your Esilia is here, Papa, somewhere. But you won't see her unless you're willing to look…to pursue the possibilities."

Archer wanted to. His lonely heart ached for him to. "It's a ridiculous, impossible dream. You know that."

Karyn arched a Lorianesque eyebrow at him. "You realize you're talking to the most impossible dreamer there is. I waited seventeen years—outlasted a war, a crash landing, the threat of the end of the world, and a massive guilt complex—to win the one I love."

"Touché." He began dancing with her again. "I'll think about it."

"You think too much, Papa."

Neatly sidestepping her comment, Archer began to sing again.

_Never saw the sun shining so bright  
Never saw things going so right  
Noticing the days hurrying by  
When you're in love, my how they fly..._

Karyn laughed delightedly as he twirled her around.

-- -- --

Kyle watched, transfixed, her elbows propped on the bar, chin resting on her hands, drink orders forgotten. She couldn't take her eyes off the captain and his Karyn. Archer was a marvelous dancer, lithe and graceful. And he obviously adored Karyn. Kyle wondered just exactly how the two of them were related, and why it was classified. How could Karyn come from the Expanse, but still be an Archer? Marriage into the family? It was an intriguing mystery...

_...Oh my, is he singing to her? He can sing, too?_

How much dreamier could the man get?

_Stop already,_ she scolded herself. But she kept watching. A girl could admire, couldn't she?

Archer and Karyn ended their dance to enthusiastic applause. He stood back proudly as she curtsied to the crowd.

"Now comes the Mother's Dance," announced Don, the bandleader. He eyed Lorian expectantly. "We have no Mother of the Groom either, but somehow, I don't think that's gonna be a problem. You got someone in mind to stand in for your mom?"

Lorian nodded. "I do."

"And a song?"

"Yes." Lorian hesitated. "However, it is not a jazz piece."

Don smiled. "We can play anything. Besides, it's your wedding, kid."

Lorian hid a smile over being referred to as "kid" by a man at least fifty years his junior. "Then, if you please, play the 'Sleeping Beauty Waltz'."

"You got it." As he turned to the band, Don murmured, "Fairy-tale music. It suits him..."

Lorian crossed to the wedding table and bowed over T'Pol's hand. "Commander, may I have this dance?"

Wordlessly, T'Pol rose and took his hand, her face composed, but her eyes aglow with affection. Lorian glanced at Trip, who gave him a nod and a warm smile.

As Lorian led T'Pol onto the dance floor, every eye in the place followed them...the _E²_ crew charmed, and the rest of the guests bursting with curiosity as to why the commander had selected the first officer of _Enterprise_ as his stand-in mother.

As the band began to play, Lorian waltzed T'Pol around the room in smooth, stylish rhythm. They were a flowing vision in ivory and midnight blue, endlessly moving, turning, spinning to the music. The other couples lingered at the sidelines, watching the magical sight for a time before taking to the floor as well.

As the waltz continued, Sammy added vocals to the melody.

_I know you...I walked with you once upon a dream  
I know you...the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam..._

T'Pol studied her son as they danced. He wore a pensive ghost of a smile as he looked at her...as if he were seeing far more than her face in his mind's eye. "Why did you select this song?" she asked.

"My birth mother, your counterpart, taught me to waltz to this melody," he replied. "It was my parents' favorite." His eyes seemed to focus on some faraway memory. "It has special meaning for me."

_But if I know you, I know what you'll do  
You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream._

T'Pol remembered her encounter with Trip in her white room during her first mind-meld with Soval...meeting her beloved in a dream, as it were. She wondered whether the other Trip and T'Pol walked together in their dreams. Perhaps that was the reason they found this waltz so appealing. "You have been thinking of them today," she said speculatively. "Your birth parents."

At once, Lorian looked apologetic. "Do not misunderstand. Having you and Father as my parents now, here, fills me with gladness."

T'Pol spoke reassuringly. "It is only logical that you would think of them on the day you have taken a wife."

He relaxed, his expression reflecting the bashfulness of a young boy. "When I was young and still learning to cope with shyness, I recall being quite mortified when my father brought up the subject of girls. I feared that I would prove a disappointment to him."

"If he were here, I believe he would be quite proud of you and your new wife." T'Pol nodded to Trip, dancing with Karyn a few meters away. "Because he _is_ proud."

Lorian found himself smiling. "It is a pleasing thought."

T'Pol hesitated, tamping down a flicker of self-consciousness. "And...what of your birth mother?"

Lorian's expression warmed. "Her confidence in me never wavered, from the first moment I can remember, to her last breath. She was a source of great strength to me."

Again T'Pol felt a pang of envy, but also a level of satisfaction. "She cherished you," she said simply. After a moment, she summoned the courage to speak further. "I did not have the privilege of giving birth to you, or raising you, but I cherish you as well...almost as if I were your real mother."

Lorian pulled her to a stop, ignoring the other couples dancing past them, and took her hands in his. "You _are_ my mother," he said firmly.

His words left her nearly speechless. "You honor me," she said softly.

He gave her an affectionate little Lorian-smile. "I love you."

T'Pol felt a rush of joy that filled her heart, leaving her unable to speak at all. She held tight to his hands, letting her eyes convey her feelings. Lorian nodded gently in understanding. Smoothly, he took her in his arms again, and on they waltzed.

* * *

Archer slipped, unnoticed, away from the noise and heat of the dance floor. He needed a break. The emotions of the day were catching up with him...the memorial, the reunion with Catherine and Chuck, the wedding, the Expanse mission going to _Columbia_...and the loss of Erika.

He'd never really had her, he supposed. When he had run into her again in February, her compassion had eased his guilt and self-loathing over what he had done in the Expanse, and helped him to begin healing. But he had resisted giving himself completely to her. He wondered why, now. It had been over twenty years since Margaret Mullen had broken his heart. Perhaps he had sensed that he needed to start liking himself again, before he could properly love anyone else.

_...I'm married to Starfleet, just like you._

Maybe he had known how risky it would be to love Erika. She had even given him fair warning, back in that bar.

It was charming, and typical, of Karyn, a confirmed optimist, to be rock-solid certain that there existed a woman who would understand Archer's responsibilities, his priorities, his need to reserve part of himself for Starfleet...for his "high ideal." Who better to understand than Erika, a fellow starship captain? And look how well _that_ had turned out.

Better to be realistic. Archer would simply keep himself too busy to think about love. He would help to found that "Federation" that Daniels was always spouting on about. He would be Uncle Jon to Trip and T'Pol's children, whenever they got around to having them, and Grandpapa to Karyn and Lorian's kids. He would die a graceful old bachelor patriarch, surrounded by family, with the exception of a wife. It would be more than enough...as long as he didn't think about it too much.

If only Esilia would stop haunting him like a dream from a time that never was, with notions of a life no longer lived alone.

Prowling along the perimeter of the room, Archer spied a narrow staircase tucked unobtrusively into an alcove. He ducked inside, taking a seat a half-dozen steps up, giving himself a view of the dance floor. He could see Karyn and Soval engaged in a sweet slow dance to _The Way You Look Tonight_. Evidently ambassadorial protocol had necessitated Soval's learning to dance human-style. A few yards away, Phlox was enthusiastically demonstrating the finer points of Denobulan dance style to a game Liz Cutler. Even Chef had finally allowed Janette Fuller to drag him away from the buffet tables for a turn around the floor. Callahan was in his element, happily circulating among the throng of guests at the tables, making sure every glass stayed filled and every plate was piled high.

Archer heard a soft tread on the stairs below, saw a flash of dark auburn hair—and there was Kyle, the club's bartender, staring up at him in surprise.

"Hello," he greeted her pleasantly.

"Hello yourself." She seemed a bit flustered.

"Am I in your way?" He started to rise.

Kyle waved him back down. "No. The only thing up there is Callahan's office, and he never goes up there once the joint is open." She studied him for a moment...what she could see of him, anyway, in the dimness of the alcove. Beneath his friendly countenance, she sensed sadness. Lingering thoughts of the memorial, she supposed. Or...maybe more than that.

She climbed a few steps, until she was standing before him. "I come here on my breaks, to get away and recharge. The humanity can be a real energy drain sometimes."

He nodded. He knew she was saying it for his benefit, and her insight impressed him. "I guess that's why I'm here, too," he said. "It's been a long day. I haven't had time to process it all yet."

With a smile of understanding, Kyle started to back down the stairs. "I'll leave you in peace, then."

"No, please..." Oddly, all of a sudden, he didn't want to be alone. Or was it that he didn't want Kyle to leave? "I don't mind. Have a seat."

Kyle settled on the step below his, her arm brushing lightly against his smoothly muscled thigh—the staircase was narrow. She looked out at the dance floor, watching Soval deliver Karyn back to Lorian. As the newlyweds began a sultry rumba, Kyle sighed. "I've never seen two people who just _belonged_ together like they do. Y'know?"

He smiled. "I'll take a wild guess and say you're a romantic."

"Guilty as charged, Captain."

"So where's your Prince Charming tonight?"

"Beats me." She smiled, a little ruefully. "I don't have one yet. And not for want of looking." Kyle nodded to Lorian and Karyn. "Watching those two fall in love...seeing them now...it gives me hope that I'll find my prince someday."

This woman, unattached? It was hard for Archer to believe. He took a moment to study her. She appeared to be in her early thirties, with striking Gaelic looks, her fair complexion contrasting with her deep auburn hair and vivid blue eyes. And she had a self-assured air of practicality that he found quite appealing. "Surely a woman as attractive as you must have plenty of suitors."

Kyle felt a warm flush at his compliment. She hoped fervently that it didn't reach her face. He was probably just being gracious. "I do. And they're frogs, all of 'em." He laughed, and she shrugged. "I have cursed myself with very high standards, Captain. Which is why I'm thirty-three and still looking."

"Some people might rather have a frog than no one at all."

Kyle shook her head with conviction. "I know too many people who have settled. They went for the security of a warm body, a face across the dinner table, an excuse not to be alone at parties. That's not me." She leaned back, idly watching the dancing couples below. "I'm looking for someone worth _sharing_ my life. Someone to laugh with, to think with, to dream with. I want someone who can teach me, learn from me, learn _with_ me...someone worth giving my heart and soul to. I want a _partner,_ not a warm body."

Archer was captivated. Kyle had just described exactly what he wanted as well. "A soulmate..."

She nodded. "Exactly."

He blinked. "What?"

"A soulmate, you said."

He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud. She was so easy to talk to, it was scary. He cleared his throat, trying to get some equilibrium back. "Whoever this dream man of yours is, wherever he is, he's wasting valuable time."

"Thanks." _Damn,_ but he was charming. Kyle knew she was already skirting harebrained territory. But right now, looking into those beautiful green eyes of his, she didn't give a rip. "I only wish love were so cooperative," she said lightly. "There's a line from _Don Quixote_... ''Tis said of love that it sometimes goes, sometimes flies; runs with one, walks gravely with another...'"

"'...Turns a third into ice, and sets a fourth in a flame'," Archer continued. "'It wounds one, another it kills; like lightning it begins and ends in the same moment...'" They shared a smile. "I've never known a bartender who read Cervantes," he remarked. Resting his chin on his hand, he studied her with interest. "What else do you read?"

"I mostly stick to stuff by people who have been dead for a long time," Kyle summed up, drawing another laugh from him. He had a lovely, musical laugh. "Lately, it's been the Brontë sisters, Dumas père et fils, Conan Doyle..."

"I love Conan Doyle!" he exclaimed. "His science fiction, or Sherlock Holmes?"

"Holmes. I pull out the complete works at least once a year."

"Favorite story?"

"_The Speckled Band_. Yours?"

"_A Scandal in Bohemia_."

Kyle grinned. "So you're a romantic, too."

"Am I?" Archer found it a little unnerving to be read so well by a woman who hardly knew him. But at the same time, it was flattering. She was taking the trouble to look past the uniform—and that damned "hero" reputation he'd been dragging around ever since _Enterprise_ had returned from the Expanse.

"Anyone who moons over Irene Adler is as much a romantic as Holmes is," Kyle said reasonably.

"Holmes, a romantic?!" Archer scoffed. "He's a misogynist."

"So he _says,_" Kyle countered. "But his actions toward women betray him. In fact, he's quite chivalrous. Look at how outraged he is when he discovers that Woodley has forced Violet Smith to marry him in _The Solitary Cyclist_. He remains comfortably in denial until a lady is in peril, and then his truer nature reveals itself."

He noticed she was leaning on his leg as she passionately made her case, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. He mentally revised his assessment of her looks from _attractive_ to _beautiful_. "What the hell are you doing tending bar, anyway?"

Kyle belatedly realized her proximity to him, though he didn't seem to mind. She pulled back anyway, hiding her self-consciousness behind a casual shrug. "I like it here. Music's nice. Plus I enjoy talking with people."

"You could probably earn a decent living as a literature professor." He raised his eyebrows speculatively.

She rolled her eyes. "You sound like Callahan. He thinks I'm wasting my time here, that I should have a bazillion-dollar-a-year job..."

"Why don't you?"

"That was the plan. I was one dissertation away from my doctorate in Psychology. A friend of the family had me all set up as an associate with his counseling practice. I was already seeing patients, getting a preview of what my life would be like." Kyle shook her head. "But it wasn't working. Charging people an arm and a leg to tell them how screwed up they were...peeling them open like onions, then sending them away raw and bleeding because their time was up...not my style. I knew it wasn't the way I'm supposed to help people."

She nodded toward the crowded dance floor, and the bar beyond. "That's my gig, out there. Listening, offering a bit of advice along with the drinks. It doesn't pay as much, but I'm happier, and so is my clientèle. Folks open up more when they feel comfortable." She turned back to Jon. "You know what I mean. Your crewmen come and talk to you, don't they?"

He was silent for a long time. Finally, he said, "I've always thought a crewman should be able to come to me about anything, any time. Part of the captain's responsibility is to be available to listen to the needs and ease the troubles of his crew." He paused. "I've done a better job of that this year. But there were times last year that I was...less than approachable. I regret that."

Kyle remembered the terrible toll the Xindi war had taken on Archer's ship...almost thirty dead, the ship shot practically to pieces. She had read about commanders in wartime—the impossible decisions they were forced to make on a daily basis, the sacrifices, the moral dilemmas they faced.

"Who does the captain talk to?" she asked softly.

He gave her a wan little smile. "Who eats the sins of a sin-eater?" He fell silent, looking away.

Kyle felt tremendous compassion for him, for the sorrows he must still have locked away inside him, unable to purge. Then she remembered The Woman. "The night you came here with Lorian and Karyn, I saw you talking with a lady...dancing with her. She's here tonight."

"Captain Hernandez," he said. "She commands _Columbia_."

_She's perfect for him_. Kyle felt a pang of envy. But she clamped down on it as she remarked, "Another starship captain, huh? She ought to be someone you could talk to, right? Someone who would understand the burdens of command?"

"You'd think so," Archer replied. "But Erika hasn't..." He stopped. Why hadn't he opened up to her? Why hadn't he told her about the nightmares that still had him jerking awake in a tangle of sweat-soaked sheets, or the regrets for mistakes that could never be corrected? Why had he kept silent about the doubts that haunted him in the dark as he vainly sought sleep, teasing him with the notion that, if he had done just one thing differently here or there, his dead crewmen might still be alive?

Why didn't he want to bare his soul to her?

"I didn't feel comfortable talking about these things with her," he heard himself saying. "She's so optimistic, so positive...I didn't want to do anything to dampen that."

_He's talking about her in the past tense_. Kyle sensed a fresh wound, yet to heal. But he still had the courtesy to speak of the woman in positive terms.

Archer shook his head with a sigh. "I don't know. Maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm selfish enough to think that _Enterprise_ has been through trials that no one else would understand, unless they'd been there." His eyes wandered out to the dance floor. "Trip and T'Pol understand."

She saw the way he was looking at them. "More than colleagues?"

He nodded. "My best friends."

"There you go." Kyle gave him a gentle nudge.

But he was already shaking his head again, backing off. "They've been through as much as I have. More. I wouldn't want to burden them."

Kyle cleared her throat importantly. "Speaking as a lay counselor, bar towel in hand..." —she got a smile out of him with that— "...it's been my experience that the unburdening of one's troubled soul is not necessarily itself a burden to a willing listener."

He regarded her with a kind of startled awe. "Shared sorrow lightens grief," he mused. A look of peace transformed his troubled features, and he smiled gently at her. "Thank you, Kyle." He leaned down and kissed her softly on the cheek.

The touch of his lips sent a warm tingle all the way down to her toes. She swallowed hard before finding her voice. "Any time, sir."

"Jon," he said. "Call me Jon."

Her voice took a powder again. She found herself happily drowning in those green eyes of his...then she blinked, snapping out of her trance with a nervous little laugh. "I'm gonna need some practice calling you that...Jon." She said his name softly, shyly. It sounded strange and wonderful to her ears.

"Then I guess I'll have to come back and see you again," he replied.

_Is this really happening?_ "I guess so."

He smiled at her, and she felt another head-to-toe tingle as she smiled back. She wondered if Callahan would miss her, if she just happened to forget the time, and inadvertently stayed here a little while longer with the captain...with _Jon_...

Holy frickin' God, he'd string her up by her toes if he found out she was AWOL.

Her smile grew apologetic. "I gotta get back to work."

"Of course." He rose, offering his hand. Kyle took it, letting him pull her to her feet. He didn't let go, but walked her down the stairs, holding her hand.

They paused at the bottom of the steps, just inside the alcove. He turned to her, his back to the crowded dance floor, shutting the rest of the world out for a few moments longer. "So how do I rate on your frog-to-prince scale?" he asked.

Kyle figured he must be teasing her. Playing along, she surveyed him critically, her eyes running up and down his tall, muscular body, then lingering on his handsome face. He waited patiently, following her gaze.

"Definitely not a frog," she concluded.

He actually looked relieved. "So far, so good."

She drew in a silent breath as the tingling bumped up a couple of notches, becoming a delicious electric charge that crackled through her as he held her eyes. She frowned uncertainly at him. "Wait. You're not seriously entering the Prince Charming contest, are you? I thought starship captains were married to their ships."

Jon saw that he was flustering her with his interest. He couldn't remember the last time he had flustered a woman. It felt good to know he could _matter_ to someone, enough to elicit a reaction like this. "Actually, so did I," he replied lightly, doing his best to hide his own nervousness. "However, I had an epiphany recently. I've been thinking that the whole 'married to my ship' perspective might be too...restrictive."

Kyle nodded, feeling a little lightheaded. "But seriously, Jon, are you...serious? Because I don't do one-night stands."

"Kyle, I don't know where this is going," he replied sincerely. "But I'm not looking for a one-night stand." With that, he kissed her softly on the lips. The feel of her mouth chastely pressed to his set off a shudder of hot, velvet sweetness that swept through his body in a powerful wave. No woman's touch had made him feel this way since...since he could remember. Not Erika, not Margaret, no one. He marveled as he felt an answering shiver from her.

He drew away, unexpectedly shaken. Kyle searched his face hopefully. "How do I rate?" she asked softly.

In reply, Jon cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again, nudging her lips open and delving deeper, tasting her, exploring. She opened eagerly to him, returning his kiss with the same curiosity and desire, her hands moving lightly over his broad chest.

When they broke apart, they were both trembling. Jon stroked Kyle's cheek as he caught his breath. "Off the scale," he replied, his voice husky with emotion.

Kyle felt deliciously euphoric. Jon smiled at her...a smile of shared discovery, and of wonders yet to come. Then he was backing away, rejoining the throng of reception guests.

She stood in the dimness of the alcove a moment longer, making sure her heart wouldn't beat right out of her chest. Then, taking a deep breath to steady herself, she headed back to the bar and got to work.

She could see him from here, mingling with the guests, once again the polished, confident captain of _Enterprise_ and paterfamilias to Karyn. Watching him, Kyle could feel herself falling for him, right now, this very moment. She wanted to plunge headfirst into those beautiful, troubled green eyes and never look back. And the idea didn't feel the least bit harebrained any longer.

* * *

Trip and T'Pol were still on the dance floor as Archer took his seat at the wedding party's table. He settled back and simply watched them. Where Lorian and Karyn created sassy, fresh-hot sparks on the dance floor, Trip and T'Pol were a luxurious slow burn of midnight blue as they moved to _Stormy Weather_...effortlessly in sync, connected at the soul.

He remembered the last time he'd been in this room, watching the two of them dancing. T'Pol had been married to Koss then, seemingly lost to Trip forever. The idea of a happy ending was a miracle away. And yet they had all been happy and hopeful, buoyed by nothing more than the offhandedly sublime logic of a man whose reappearance in their lives was itself something of a miracle. Lorian had given them that hope, and a way to endure the Marriage of Inconvenience until the situation righted itself.

Now Archer felt touched by the same sublime logic, courtesy of an eternally optimistic great-granddaughter and a counselor disguised as a bartender.

He could still taste Kyle's kiss on his lips, and feel the warmth of the extraordinary connection between them. He smiled to himself, feeling hopeful again.

* * *

At about ten o'clock, Kyle noticed Jon exchanging a few words with Callahan, who then signaled "last call" to her. As she poured a final round of drinks for everyone at the bar, Sammy began to sing a slow, poignant ballad, accompanied only by the pianist.

_Meet me on the other side  
Meet me on the other side  
I'll see you on the other side  
See you on the other side..._

As couples took to the floor for a final slow dance, reception guests exchanged hugs and farewells. Kyle remembered Jon mentioning that many of them were scattering to the four winds after today. Both _Enterprise_ and _Columbia_ were due to embark on deep-space missions in a matter of days. The mood in the room took on a wistfulness as close friends took their leave of one another for what could be months, or years.

Commander Tucker's parents glided onto the dance floor with the ease and grace of longtime partners. They both wore expressions of sweet sadness as they listened to the words, holding each other close as they danced.

_Another mirage folds into the haze of time recalled  
And now the floodgates cannot hold  
All my sorrow, all my rage  
A tear that falls on every page..._

Commanders Tucker and T'Pol were dancing together again. They had been maintaining a comfortable but professional decorum on the dance floor all evening. This time, though, Kyle saw that T'Pol had eased close enough to Tucker to lean against him, nestling her head into the hollow of his throat, and he had his arms around her. Kyle thought the only Vulcan she would ever meet who was comfortable with touching was Lorian, and now here was T'Pol, looking as though she belonged in Tucker's arms. Odd, considering she was married to someone else. Kyle idly wondered if she would ever hear the full story on them.

_The ghosts are crawling on our skin  
We may race and we may run  
We'll not undo what has been done  
Or change the moment when it's gone..._

Lorian and Karyn were surrounded by dancing couples, but they might as well have been all alone, so focused were they on each other. They looked deep into each other's eyes as the words of the song floated over them.

_I know it would be outrageous  
To come on all courageous  
And offer you my hand  
To pull you up on to dry land..._

Kyle spotted Jon on the far side of the room, speaking with Admiral Gardner and The Woman...Captain Hernandez of _Columbia_. Kyle could see the physical distance between Jon and Hernandez as plain as day again, as the three said their goodnights. As soon as she and Gardner were gone, Jon shut his eyes in relief. When he opened them again, he looked directly at the bar...at Kyle.

He seemed surprised to see that she was watching him. Kyle almost lowered her gaze, embarrassed at being caught spying. But then he actually looked pleased, in an adorably shy kind of way. And hell, it was too late now anyway. So she didn't look away. They held each other's gaze across the crowded dance floor as the song played out.

_Meet me on the other side  
I'll see you on the other side  
Honey, now if I'm honest  
I still don't know what love is..._

The party broke up with the efficiency of, well, a Starfleet operation. There was a flurry of activity at the several guestbooks that _Enterprise's_ quartermaster had set out, with everyone leaving congratulations, personal messages, and contact information. Lorian and Karyn, bucking tradition again, would have no part of being the first to leave, instead stationing themselves at the exit to offer their thanks and farewells to the departing guests.

Within minutes, the joint was almost empty, except for the wedding party. After Kyle exchanged farewells with everyone, she watched with amusement as Lorian and Karyn offered Callahan warm thanks for the reception, and Callahan tried, unsuccessfully, to shrug it all off as business-as-usual.

Ambassador Soval inclined his head gravely to his host. "Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Callahan."

"Any time, Ambassador," Callahan nodded in return. "By the way, I liked that toast o' yours. 'Live long and prosper'—that's kicky. Maybe it'll catch on with your Vulcan brethren at the embassy."

"Perhaps," Soval agreed, ever the diplomat. "Good evening." He escorted the others out, leaving only the captain behind.

"You outdid yourself, Callahan," Archer said happily. "Thank you."

"Glad I could accommodate," Callahan replied. "O' course, it woulda been a pale shadow of a party without Chef."

"And he'd be the first to tell you."

"He already did," Callahan deadpanned, and Archer laughed. With a grin, Callahan shook his hand firmly. "Don't be a stranger, Captain."

Jon glanced at Kyle, and a tiny smile graced his lips. It was enough to send a pleasant shiver through her. His voice was soft and full of promise as he replied, "I won't."

They watched the captain leave. The joint was quiet now, except for the band, tuning their instruments, getting ready for the regular evening crowd.

Kyle felt Callahan looking at her. She kept her face pleasantly neutral, her eyes on the empty doorway.

"I guess I can bring the boys in to sweep up," he said. "Seein' as how your feet aren't even touchin' the floor."

She started out. "I'll go take the 'Private Party' sign down."

As she reached the doorway, Callahan asked, "So what's goin' on?"

Kyle turned back, giving him a serene smile. "I'm interested. And so is he." With that, she floated out. Her feet weren't touching the floor, after all.

-tbc-


	14. Touching Souls

**...Touching and Touched**

Disclaimer: _Star Trek: Enterprise_ is the property of Paramount Pictures, Inc. All original material herein is the property of its author.

PLEASE NOTE CHANGE IN RATING.

Rating: R for strong language and sexual situations. Ye have been warned.

A/N: Thanks go to the Vulcan Language Institute and the Vulcan Language Dictionary for help with the lingo, and as always to my betas Stephanie, TJinLOCA, and Jenna.

Note: /Dialogue within slash marks/ is inner-thought bond-speak.

* * *

Chapter 14: _Touching Souls_

The VIP suite was magnificent, designed to please the most demanding dignitaries who deigned to visit Starfleet. The rooms were elegant without being opulent, tastefully appointed with every amenity imaginable. As Archer navigated the splendid maze, he remembered back to the days of the NX program, when all the pilots regularly ribbed Paul Gardner for his inordinately good taste. Archer was pleased to see how well it had paid off for Paul, and for Starfleet, now that he was running the show.

Archer entered the spacious sitting room to find Soval and T'Pol arranging candles in a ceremonial circle in preparation for the bonding ritual. Chuck and Catherine returned from their tour of the suite a moment later. "This place is bigger than our first house," Chuck remarked dryly.

"The bathroom is a religious experience," Catherine added.

Trip entered from the kitchenette, where he had been nosing through the cupboards and fridge. "Looks like there's enough food here to last a week," he reported. "Including supplies of _theris-masu_ and chamomile tea..._sash-savas_ juice—hoo, that'll wake ya up in the mornin'...strawberries, _yon-savas_, and Rocky Road ice cream."

"Rocky Road is Karyn's favorite," Archer supplied. "I suppose all those things are her and Lorian's favorite foods, though I have no idea how Admiral Gardner would know."

"Karyn discovered Rocky Road ice cream at the Starfleet cafeteria," Lorian said, entering from the master bedroom, where he had been putting away his and Karyn's belongings. "Admiral Forrest introduced me to Vulcan fruits and teas as well, during our stay at the Starfleet compound. I quickly developed a fondness for them."

"Forrest must've been taking notes," Archer commented.

"I'd bet Gardner has some crack adjutant whose sole purpose is to keep track of stuff like that," Trip added.

"Admiral Gardner is quite perceptive," Lorian acknowledged. "He has been most astute to emulate Admiral Forrest's characteristic attention to detail."

Trip grinned at T'Pol. "I wonder what Rocky Road would taste like topped with slices of _yon-savas_?"

T'Pol repressed a faint shudder as she began lighting the candles. "If you are looking for a 'guinea pig,' I advise you to continue your search."

Lorian turned to Soval. "Ambassador, judging from your mind-touch with me earlier, might it be possible for me to learn to initiate melds myself? I'm aware that my telepathic abilities may be limited..."

"Your ability is undisciplined, but nevertheless quite strong," Soval replied. "You appear to have inherited your mother's natural talent. As to the extent of your skills, we cannot know without further investigation."

"I would appreciate your guidance."

"Of course," Soval said. "We have little time left before _Columbia's_ launch, but it should be sufficient to find the answers you seek. We shall engage in some preliminary exercises."

Lorian nodded, endeavoring to quell his eagerness before the ambassador. "That would be agreeable."

"So," Catherine said to Soval, "tell us more about this bonding ceremony. What's it like?"

T'Pol glanced warmly at Trip as Soval replied, "It is a special mind-meld that establishes a connection of complete trust with one's chosen bondmate, without secrets or doubts. To be bonded is to communicate with total understanding, to be as close as two people can be."

Catherine was enthralled. "Trip's told us a bit about mind-melding. How would you describe it, ambassador?"

Soval pondered for a moment. "I would characterize it as an exercise in willing vulnerability," he said at last. "The participants must open themselves to complete receptivity. It can be a daunting prospect, but it is a rewarding one."

As the others listened intently to Soval, Chuck hung back. This whole thing still made him feel squirrelly. It was a cinch he'd never be volunteering for one of these mind-meld things. But the idea wasn't quite as grimace-worthy as it had been this morning, when his acquaintance with the people involved was only a few minutes old. Now he considered Lorian and Karyn family, and he knew how crazy they were about each other. It made a loopy kind of sense that they'd want to be inside each other's heads, too.

He still must have had a grimace on his face, though, because Jon was giving him a cock-eyed smile. "It's not all _that_ bad."

Chuck stared at him. "Don't tell me _you've_ been through one of these things."

"Several, actually."

A whole mess of questions popped into Chuck's head, each jostling for supremacy. Finally he asked, "What do they feel like?"

Archer shrugged. "Once you get past the sensation of having your personal space violated and your mind peeled open like an onion by a total stranger..."

Chuck scowled at him. "Thanks. I feel _so_ reassured."

"Don't mention it," Archer replied lightly.

Catherine looked around. "Where did Karyn go off to?"

Lorian nodded toward the French doors leading to the balcony. Outside, Karyn was a lone silhouette in flowing ice-blue, looking somehow fragile and out-of-place against the star-splashed night sky.

"What's she doin' out there, all by herself?" Catherine asked.

"Having second thoughts, perhaps," Lorian said, with a touch of wryness.

But both Trip and T'Pol could sense the uncertainty that their son was concealing from the others. They exchanged a mental glance, and T'Pol made the first reply. "A more logical assumption is that she is preparing herself for the bonding ritual."

"Practicing her Vulcan," Trip added. He winked at the captain. "If I know my Archers, she wants to get everything just right."

"Lorian's got a point," Chuck spoke up. "We humans are used to being _alone_ inside our heads. She might be out there kissing her nice, quiet private mind good-bye."

Catherine took her husband firmly by the arm. To the others, she smiled sweetly. "Excuse us for a moment." Then she dragged Chuck out of the room.

"Well," Archer said pleasantly, "while Catherine is bawling Chuck out, I'll go check on Karyn." He headed outside.

Trip plopped onto the sofa. "Don't you just love family get-togethers?" he sighed, to no one in particular.

-- -- --

Catherine shoved Chuck into the nearest bedroom and shut the door. "What the hell do you know about what those two do or don't want?" she hissed furiously.

Chuck folded his arms, unrepentant. "I'm just sayin'—"

"Nobody asked you! So hush up, before I take your fool head off. You're an invited guest, Chuck."

"I'm family!" Chuck retorted. "That's what everybody keeps tellin' me, isn't it?"

"That doesn't give you the right to act like a boor."

"What if she _is_ having second thoughts about this bonding thing?" Chuck said stubbornly.

"That's their business, not yours. Just because you don't like the idea of bonding, it doesn't mean Lorian and Karyn don't want it more than anything in the world." Catherine sighed. "Chuck, if you'd just keep your mouth shut and your eyes open, you might learn something."

Chuck chewed the inside of his lip, clearly unconvinced. But he nodded, grudgingly. "I'll behave."

Catherine smiled tiredly and gave him a kiss. "I swear, Chuck, if I didn't love you so much, I'd kill you."

-- -- --

When Archer stepped onto the balcony, he found Karyn gazing out at the bay, her face unreadable. She looked as if she were shivering, but it wasn't cold. She seemed a far cry from the irrepressible, bubbly dynamo of a few hours ago.

"Nice view," he remarked. She nodded, saying nothing. "Soval's almost ready." Another wordless nod. Archer gave up and went fishing. "Excited?"

Karyn examined the toes of her pale blue satin shoes. At last she spoke, her voice almost too soft for him to hear. "Nervous."

It was the last thing Archer expected. "About mind-melding?" he asked gently.

"About _not_ melding." Karyn looked out across the blue-black sea, watching the moonlight rippling across the water. She sounded very young. "What if we can't? What if we aren't able to bond? What if this doesn't work, because I'm not Vulcan?"

"Trip's not Vulcan. He and T'Pol did just fine."

"Lorian's not T'Pol." Karyn glanced down again. "He's unique."

"From what Soval tells me, Lorian's uniqueness is the reason you're able to attempt this bonding at all." Archer stroked her back soothingly. "What happened to my eternal optimist?"

She looked up at him, and Archer saw the mingled hope and concern in her eyes. "Lorian wants this so much. I do, too. If it doesn't happen—if we can't feel each other through the bond—"

"Plenty of people enjoy long, happy marriages without being bonded."

"That's because they don't know what they're missing." As soon as she said it, Karyn blushed and looked away.

Archer studied her for a long moment. "And you do?"

Almost imperceptibly, she nodded. "Sometimes I can sense what he's feeling, when his emotions are strong. They're just moments, glimpses...but they've been so profound. It's hard to put into words...like looking into his soul."

Archer was fascinated. "When did it start?"

"After we began courting," Karyn said carefully, without looking at him.

Archer smiled to himself. It didn't take a genius to figure out that she actually meant _after we began sleeping together_, but he found her modesty charming. She and Lorian certainly were a perfect match in that respect.

"Soval calls it an empathic link," she continued. "We think it has something to do with the effect of our emotional connection on Lorian's hybrid genetic makeup."

"What is Lorian's reaction to this?"

"Frustration," Karyn said flatly. "The link is only one-way, from him to me, because he's the telepathic one. He can't sense me at all, but he wishes to, more than anything. Being bonded was something he didn't think was possible for us, until..." She sighed, her eyes drifting back out to the dark, silent sea.

"Have faith in your love, honey," Archer said reassuringly. "It hasn't let you down yet."

Karyn hugged him, feeling calmer in his embrace. "You know, for a man who never raised any children, you're awfully good at this paternal wisdom thing."

Archer chuckled. "It doesn't hurt when the first 'child' I'm dispensing wisdom to is twenty-six years old. Also intelligent, capable, self-assured, beautiful...everything I could have hoped for. And I didn't even have anything to do with how you turned out."

"Wrong," Karyn smiled. "You were my inspiration. You were in my blood. You were _Jonathan Archer_. Of course, until the day we made contact with your ship, you were just a file in the database—log entries, reports, pictures. It was when Lorian and I stepped through that airlock hatchway and I saw you that you came to life for me." Suddenly, she looked young again, but it was the expression of an adoring little girl. "It's a moment I'll never forget."

Archer was taken aback, and a little embarrassed. "You played it pretty cool."

Karyn laughed. "I was trying not to pass out. Here we all were, intent on saving the world, and I felt like a starstruck teenager."

He kept thinking she must be talking about someone else. "I'm not the Jonathan Archer you grew up hearing about," he said quietly. "Far from it."

"But you will be," she replied, with simple certainty. "The mark you leave here will be different than the one you left in my timeline. But you _will_ accomplish great things. I know you will."

_She sounds like Daniels. God, now I have two of them._ Aloud, he said with amusement, "That's your unbiased assessment, is it?"

"Of course!" Karyn declared. But her straight face cracked a moment later, giving way to a sunny smile.

He kissed her on the cheek. "There's my eternal optimist."

-- -- --

As Soval set out meditation pillows within the circle of candles, Trip took Lorian aside. "Did Soval tell you how the bond's gonna...affect the two of you right at first?"

"He mentioned that Karyn and I would be drawn to each other for a time," Lorian replied.

"Drawn—?" Trip rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I suppose that's the Vulcan way of phrasing it."

"You would characterize the bond's immediate effects differently?"

Personally, Trip would have put it, _so crazed with desire that you'll want to fuck each other silly for days on end_. But he didn't want to make Lorian uncomfortable...or spoil the fun. So he said, "Lemme put it this way. Don't start anything—don't even kiss her—until you two are alone."

Lorian looked intrigued. "Why?"

Trip leaned closer, his voice dropping to a suggestive near-whisper. "They don't call it a _mating_ bond for nothing, son."

Lorian's eyes widened as he began to get Trip's drift. But there was no opportunity for more questions; the captain was escorting Karyn inside.

Trip took a seat on the couch alongside T'Pol and his parents. As Lorian moved into the candlelit circle where Soval waited, Archer delivered Karyn with a kiss on her cheek, then stepped back. She was calm now, focused on her love for Lorian and his for her, and trusting in it. Whatever the bond gave them, she would be content, because she had Lorian.

"Are you ready, Niece?" Soval asked.

There was no longer any need for the ambassador to keep up the pretext of "niece" and "uncle," with the wedding ceremony and public celebration over, yet he was still addressing Karyn as family. She felt deeply honored. With a gentle smile, she replied, "Yes, Uncle. I'm ready."

Soval held out a hand, welcoming her into the warm glow of the ceremonial circle.

Catherine leaned in to Chuck. "What an ol' softy Ambassador Cranky turned out to be," she murmured.

"Ambassador Toasted Marshmallow," Chuck said softly in reply. "Crisp and brittle on the outside, sweet and gooey on the inside."

Catherine bit her lip to stifle an appreciative chuckle. _Ambassador Toasted Marshmallow._ She knew she would never look at Soval in quite the same way again.

Archer dimmed the room lights. Now the only illumination came from meditation candles and moonlight. He moved to stand behind the couch, with the rest of the family.

Soval nodded to Lorian and Karyn, and the pair knelt before each other on the meditation pillows. The ambassador began the ceremony, his voice giving the Vulcan words an unlabored elegance. "Etek hoknau fi'nash-gef, vah sha'sutra hoknau na'akarshif—ruhm svi'tsatik—kup-toglantau telan t'katra."

T'Pol translated quietly, for the benefit of the humans. "We are gathered on these shores, as our people have gathered for centuries—even in secret—to witness a bonding of souls."

Soval addressed Lorian. "Lorian, sa-fu Charles, sa-fu T'Pol, nam-tor du na'telan?" _Lorian, son of Charles, son of T'Pol, are you prepared for bonding?_

"Nash-veh nam-tor," Lorian replied calmly. _I am._

Soval turned to Karyn. "Karyn, ko-fu Charles, ko-fu Olivia, nam-tor du na'telan?" _Karyn, daughter of Charles, daughter of Olivia, are you prepared for bonding?_

Karyn felt like beaming from ear to ear, but a properly Vulcanesque demeanor seemed more appropriate. She kept her expression composed. "Nash-veh nam-tor," she answered.

With a sure but delicate touch, Soval placed one hand on Lorian's face, and the other on Karyn's, his practiced fingers automatically finding the _katra_ points for melding. The pair closed their eyes as Soval intoned softly, "Sha'kashkau na'vu'kashkau..." _My mind to your minds..._

The witnesses watched in transfixed silence—Archer hopeful, Trip and T'Pol aglow with their own memories of bonding, and Catherine spellbound. Only Chuck remained unsettled, still fighting down the last remnants of his queasiness. _They asked for this,_ he told himself resolutely. _They want this. They're not you, old man..._

"Sha'nahp na'vu'nahp..." _My thoughts to your thoughts..._

Lorian felt the ambassador enter his mind, as he had earlier that day. Soval's consciousness was stronger this time, more direct...a commanding stride rather than a whisper, though with no less finesse.

Karyn knew well the sensation of Lorian's unbridled emotional essence tumbling unannounced into her mind, but Soval's presence was profoundly different—disciplined, ordered, purposeful. Still, his mental touch was powerful and startling. Disoriented, she reached out blindly. Lorian took her hands in his and held on, steadying her.

"Sha'kashkau nam-tor nohvan..." _Our minds are merging..._

Karyn felt a rush of concern and love from Lorian. Gladly, she turned toward his familiar presence—and she realized that she could see him with her mind's eye, deep and warm, aglow with selflessness and unabashed adoration.

"...Sha'kashkau nam-tor veh," the three said in unison. _Our minds are one._

Lorian gasped as he felt the full force of Karyn's emotions for the first time. It was as if he'd been plunged into a bottomless pool of soft, sweet, pure devotion. The sensation left every fiber of his being electrified, every sense heightened and focused wholly on her. It was more wondrous than all his imaginings.

He could see her now, in his mind...a sunny, smiling presence, shining with a brilliance born of her optimism. She seemed unreal, impossibly beautiful, like a magical creature from that enchanted forest for which he was named.

/Can this be you, my beloved?/ he asked, with the soft, low inner voice of his mind. /Is this your heart I feel at last?/

The shimmering beauty smiled, cupping his face in her hands. /Yes, love./ To his delight, her presence intensified with her touch. Lorian decided he could happily die thus, surrounded by Karyn's sweet essence.

/You need not be so dramatic, Lorian./ Soval wore an amused smile as he drew near. Here, in this otherworld of their mingled minds, the old Vulcan's expression was open and accessible, his wise brown eyes lively. /When you are bonded, you will have the joy of Karyn's everpresence without the need for a mawkish act of romantic self-sacrifice./

Lorian smiled sheepishly. /How fortunate for me./

/And me, / Karyn laughed, her voice like music to his ears. /After everything we went through to be together, I find the idea of your dying quite disagreeable./

/Then I shall never die, / Lorian pledged promptly, with a twinkle in his eye.

Soval regarded the two as a teacher would a pair of wayward students. /Now that the matter is settled, shall we proceed?/

Karyn ducked her head in apology, but she was giggling. Lorian nodded deferentially, taking his wife's radiant hands in his. With a tiny thrill of anticipation, he spoke aloud the words of the bonding ritual. "Karyn, nash-veh dungi-nam-tor ko-telsu k'tu, worla eh kwon-sum estuhn heh vesht estuhl." _Karyn, I would be bondmate to thee, never and always touching and touched._

Karyn squeezed his hands gently as she repeated the ritual words. "Lorian, nash-veh dungi-nam-tor ko-telsu k'tu, worla eh kwon-sum estuhn heh vesht estuhl."

Lorian sensed Karyn's essence merging with his, her sunny sweetness flowing through him, suffusing every part of him. Suddenly, he could see through her eyes as well as his, taste and hear and smell with both their senses, feel the beat of both their hearts. It was a breathtaking, dizzying, glorious sensation.

But Karyn, he could tell, was anxious and disquieted, unable to adjust quickly enough to the sensation of being in two bodies at once. Her essence reached toward his, just as her physical body had sought him out moments earlier. He enveloped her spirit with his own, steady and solid. /Don't be afraid, beloved, / he whispered into her shining ebony hair. /I won't let go./

As she clung fast to him, he gradually felt her nervousness ease, giving way to wonder, then exhilaration at their new shared perspective.

Soval was with them again, an unobtrusive guide. /Now open your thoughts, each to the other, / he told them. /Become one mind, one heart, one soul./

Lorian felt Karyn opening herself to him, sparkling with warmth and welcome. Memories flooded his mind, images that flickered like the surrounding candlelight, the events and emotions of her lifetime. He watched her grow up again, this time seeing her childhood adulation for him, and its gradual transformation into genuine love, albeit unrequited...nourished by hope for the war's end, and dreams of what might be...

Suddenly Lorian was reliving the horrific loss of Charlie and Olivia Archer through Karyn's memories, feeling her shock, her devastation, her guilt. He had never understood why she had felt such crushing guilt. Now, though, her heart gave up its last secrets to him.

_I didn't want to go with them! I wanted to be with you..._

With her parents on their away mission, Karyn had spent the happiest three days of her life filling in at the helm, working with her secret, unsuspecting love Lorian. She'd hardly given her parents a second thought. Then, suddenly, Charlie and Olivia were gone.

Lorian could feel fresh pain and guilt welling up from her at the memory. He stroked her cheek soothingly. /Parents expect that one day their child will strike out on her own path, rather than follow theirs./

/But I was so _selfish_, / Karyn moaned brokenly.

/If your parents were here now, / Lorian told her gently, /I imagine they would speak to you much as Soval spoke to me at the reception today. Rather than saying you were selfish, they would say that...you _lived_./

She melted into his arms, and he felt his words settle over her like a healing balm.

He could see their shared memory of that night eight years ago in the Captain's Mess, when he had consoled her. The sight of Karyn weeping silently in her captain's embrace as he soothed her...it conveyed a wealth of new meaning now. /You wished to tell me that night about your feelings for me, / he said.

She nodded, without looking at him. /But it wasn't the right time./

/Why not?/

/The mission was everything to you. And also...I was afraid./ She smiled wanly. /Unrequited love is infinitely more bearable than rejection./

/You made it difficult for yourself./ He kissed her hair. /My mother once told me that secrets are a waste of energy./

Karyn snuggled closer to him. /Wise woman./

As Lorian held her, he opened himself to her, utterly and completely, offering up a century of memories. He felt the joy of her discoveries, and the pang of her sorrows, as she looked upon the sum of his life. She saw him now as a shy but brilliant child, forced by tragedy to grow up too quickly...a somber and lonely teenager who gravitated to Jonathan Archer at T'Pol's gentle urging, accepting him as mentor, teacher, and surrogate father to help fill the void...a diligent young Chief Engineer determined to make his father proud...a solitary ship's commander, driven by a century-old mission. Always, he was anchored by the ever-present comfort of an Archer at the helm—first Henry, then Charlie, then Karyn, who became his friend, his first officer, his confidante...

_No more secrets..._

_You did everything you could..._

_No. You don't understand. I hesitated..._

Lorian felt Karyn's stunned reaction as she finally understood the reason behind his increased isolation in the months following their failure to stop the Xindi probe...his obsessive need to find Archer's _Enterprise_ and make contact with Degra, and his misguided descent into theft, betrayal, even an attack on his own ancestors, until Karyn persuaded him to stand down.

/I wish you'd told me, / she said.

Lorian could only stand before her, penitent, his final secret laid bare. The sting of his shameful actions still pierced sharply, though he had thought them laid to rest. /It would only have distressed you./

He felt her compassion warring with exasperation. /So instead you let it eat away at you and drive you half-insane with guilt./ There were tears in her eyes as she turned to Soval, a wise, steady presence. /At least you were able to straighten him out at his Starfleet debriefing./

Soval inclined his head in acknowledgment. /It was my privilege./

Lorian wasn't sure whether Karyn wanted to hug him or strike him. He was relieved when she slipped her arms around him. /You should listen to your mother./

With a contrite smile, he returned her embrace. /Agreed, beloved./

He felt the connection between them solidify, deepening and strengthening into something without beginning or end. The lingering shackles of remorse faded, replaced by a wondrous sense of freedom and completion. Everywhere, he felt Karyn's bright, sweet love flowing through him, just as he knew his deep, glowing devotion coursed through her. /This is the bond, / he realized. /We are bonded./

Karyn's smile lit up his heart. /We did it./

Soval stepped forward. /It is time to break the meld./

/So soon?/ Lorian asked reluctantly.

The old Vulcan laid a hand on Lorian's shoulder. /It is not an end, Lorian, but a beginning./

Karyn caressed her bondmate's cheek. /I'll be right here, love./

-- -- --

Tears slipped free from under Lorian's closed eyes and rolled down his calm face. The sight was startling. Catherine and Chuck exchanged a concerned glance. "Is something wrong?" Catherine asked in a hushed voice.

"No," Trip replied reassuringly. He knew what his son was experiencing, because he had gone through it himself. "The bonding meld...touching souls for the first time...it's pretty overwhelming."

T'Pol took his hand, and he turned to find her gazing at him with unguarded affection. She was feeling it, too—a resonant echo of their own bonding meld, with its outpouring of emotion and honesty. He kissed her fingers, but he still felt her yearning for him. With a smile, he gave her a soft kiss on the lips, feeling a wave of contentment pass through them both, like the warmth of a summer breeze.

Gently, Soval withdrew his hands from the newlyweds' faces.

Lorian felt himself back in his own body, confined to his own senses once more, returning to awareness of the physical world. His eyes snapped open as he realized the meld had been broken. He saw Karyn kneeling across from him, felt her hands securely held in his own—

—And he could sense her still, inside his mind, a shining, joyful presence.

He saw a single tear escape one of her lovely brown eyes and course down her cheek. He was reminded of the tear she had shed before their wedding vows...but there was one sublime difference. Now he knew what was in her heart. He could feel her love, rich and full, flowing from her to him through their bond.

He reached up, capturing the droplet on his fingertip. "I feel you," he whispered.

Karyn smiled at the very words she had said to him. She touched her fingers to his cheek, and they came away wet with his own tears. Lorian had not realized how deeply the bonding had affected him. As she brushed his tears away, the feel of her echoed through his mind. He took her hand in his, kissing her fingers, and felt the bond resonate like a harp string stroked by a musician.

"Aifa dahkuh nam-tor i'veh," Soval proclaimed.

"These two are now one," T'Pol translated.

Catherine let loose a squeal of delight and clapped her hands. Laughing, Archer and Trip joined the impromptu applause, as Lorian and Karyn smiled shyly.

Catherine led a general stampede to the newly-bonded couple to bestow congratulatory hugs and kisses. Chuck brought up the rear, shaking Lorian's hand as Catherine said, "That was beautiful. Really somethin' to see."

"I would think observing a mind-meld would be rather uneventful," Lorian mused.

"Well, sure, your eyes were closed," Catherine acknowledged. "But your faces were doin' all sorts of interesting things. What was goin' on in there?"

Lorian spoke slowly, still savoring the experience. "We were sharing thoughts...memories...emotions. It was quite profound."

"Is it everything you hoped?" Chuck asked. "This bond-thing?"

Lorian glanced at Karyn, standing a meter away with Archer, her back to her husband. As if reading Lorian's mind, she looked over her shoulder at him at the same moment. They traded a smile that was so heartfelt and intimate, it made Chuck feel like a voyeur. "More than I hoped," Lorian replied. "Far more."

Chuck found himself smiling. Happy, even. And not the least bit queasy any more. _Who'da thunk it?_ "I'm glad, son. For both of you."

Archer regarded his great-granddaughter knowingly. "So all that worrying about the bond, the meld—that was for nothing, wasn't it?"

"Insufferable smugness doesn't become you, Papa," Karyn scolded him. Then she threw her arms around him and hugged him tight, catching him completely by surprise.

"What's this for?" he asked.

"In the meld—I saw you," she said happily. "The great-grandfather I never knew—I have memories of him now, Lorian's memories. It's wonderful."

Archer had that strange feeling of schizophrenia again...as well as envy, for the other Archer. He was getting tired of wanting to be that guy. "From the look on your face, I'd say the other fellow did all right," he said.

"_You_ did great," Karyn corrected him, with an enthusiasm that made him smile in spite of himself. "I can't wait to tell you some stories."

_And give me a complex_, Archer thought. _Oh, the irony._

Trip and T'Pol stayed in the background with Soval following their quick conveyance of congratulations. They knew precisely how Lorian and Karyn felt at this moment: disoriented to be back in the real world after the safe haven of the meld, overwhelmed with thoughts of each other, wanting simply to be left alone to explore the bond. But the humans, of course, couldn't know that.

After five minutes of Family felicitations with no indication of conclusion, Soval took action. "Regrettably, I must return to the embassy," he announced.

Trip took his cue. "We can give you a lift, Ambassador." He nudged Archer. "Can't we, Pappy?"

Archer looked pained, and Soval arched an eyebrow. "I see the commander's impertinence with me is not anomalous behavior."

Archer glowered at Trip. "Far from it."

"Well, the boy _is_ young," Chuck put in.

Catherine wordlessly waved good-bye to Lorian and Karyn as she began herding the rest of the Family toward the door.

"Wisdom will come," Soval predicted sagely.

Trip looked askance at the three men. "Now wait just a damn minute—!"

"And courtesy, presumably," T'Pol added.

Trip glared open-mouthed at her. _Et tu, bondmate?_ She said nothing, but he could hear her silvery laughter inside his mind.

"One can only hope that T'Pol will prove a positive influence," Soval continued.

Archer gave Karyn a farewell wink as he led the Family out, with Trip at his heels like a misunderstood puppy. "I'm gonna remember this," the engineer warned. "The next time you're up on the bridge with a Klingon battle cruiser halfway up _Enterprise's_ ass, and you need another miracle from your ol' buddy Trip, I'm gonna remember this night _very clearly_..."

Lorian shut the door behind them.

He turned to his wife. The candles cast an ethereal glow on Karyn's upswept ebony hair and iridescent blue gown. She was heartstoppingly lovely. But he knew he was seeing her with more than his eyes now, because of the bond. He had the sense that their love had become a tangible thing...visible, tactile, and ever so sensual.

As if reading his thoughts, she said softly, "I was afraid we might not have this."

"Afraid?" He could sense it now, a shadow of past unsettlement, now put to rest. "You hid it well."

"Oh, I hoped," she said quickly. "Ever since you spoke to your parents about the bond, and I realized it was what you wanted..." She looked down. "But these flashes I've had of your emotions...I kept thinking they were some sort of accident, as if I were getting a secret glimpse of something I wasn't supposed to see. And each time you faded away, I thought it might be the last time." Her eyes rose to meet his. "It won't stop, will it?"

"It will never stop," he said, his baritone voice warm and reassuring. "The bond is always."

He felt a surge of affection from her. She pulled out the clasp that held her hair in its elegant French twist, and her dark locks fell free, tumbling down her shoulders. She had let her hair grow since their arrival here; Lorian found the added length quite becoming.

Even now, with her standing a meter away, he felt the bond pulsing between them with each breath, each heartbeat.

Karyn smiled faintly. "What now?"

Lorian remembered those same words, spoken long ago, the night they first began courting. He returned her smile. "I have a very good idea."

Her velvet-brown eyes flickered invitingly in the candlelight. "It appears the challenge will be tearing each other's clothes off without tearing the clothes."

"Surely we'll be able to exercise the necessary restraint," he said, in a reasonable voice.

"I'm not feeling very restrained at the moment." Karyn came nearer, her skirt rustling softly as she moved. Slowly, she undid the fastenings of his jacket. It felt to Lorian as if her fingers were tiny flames radiating a delicious heat that seemed to flow through him. She slipped the jacket off his broad shoulders, letting it slide down his smoothly muscled arms into her waiting hands. She smelled of lilacs and sweet perfume, light and heady. With care, she laid the jacket aside.

As she turned to him once more, he caught the lacings at the front of her tight-fitting bodice and untied the delicate blue bow. The bodice fell open as the lacings came loose, freeing her breasts almost completely from confinement. Lorian shivered with desire at the sight—and then he watched with startled wonder as Karyn trembled in response, though he had not so much as touched her.

"That's nice," she breathed.

"What?"

Her cheeks flushed a deep rose as she shyly smiled. "Feeling what you feel, as you look at me."

She traced her fingers lightly over the smooth satin of his tunic. Lorian had a sudden, startlingly vivid image of himself through her eyes—but it was more than that. He could _feel_ her desire for him, simmering and building, fed by her view of his strong, graceful body, by the feel of him under her fingers. It was strange to view himself as an object of such passion...but infinitely pleasing to know that these feelings sprang from the heart of the woman he loved.

The bond was crackling between them now, sparking hungrily. Karyn moved closer, her entire body subtly trembling. "What I'm feeling for you...it's as if I want to climb inside you." Suddenly, her face lit with a realization. "I felt this from you on the night of the _pon farr_."

Lorian hesitated, uncertain—but before he could draw back, she caught his face in her hands, smiling at him. "No, not the madness. Just the desire...the love."

With relief, he happily sank again into that bottomless pool of her devotion, feeling it all around him, enveloping him completely. And still he wanted more, _needed_ more. "Yes," he said softly. "_Pon farr_, without the madness." He felt her breath, sweet and silky on his lips. "My father told me before the ceremony that after we were bonded, I should take care not to kiss you until we were alone."

Karyn raised an intrigued eyebrow. "Did he say why?"

Her nearness was making him pleasantly dizzy. His skin still tingled from her touch. The bond was singing in his ears. "Not precisely. I had the impression that he wished for us to discover the reason ourselves."

She gave him a suggestive smile. "It's not as if we've never kissed."

He felt himself drawing nearer to her, like a magnet, as his craving mingled with hers through the bond. "True," he murmured. "I don't quite..." Lightly, he brushed his lips against hers.

And the bond ignited.

Suddenly he was holding her, kissing her deeply, trying to reach that exquisite oneness they had captured before inside the meld, when the bond had taken hold. Karyn pressed against him with equal urgency, welcoming his thrusting tongue, his hands tight around her waist, his hips rubbing insistently against hers. They both moaned as the heat rose around them, melting them together.

He couldn't get close enough to her—he needed to be closer. He backed her up against the wall, never losing contact with her lips, her mouth, her tongue. He pulled her bodice open, cupping her full breasts in his hands, feeling the hot spark of her pleasure flaring through them both.

She was whimpering and moaning now, nipping at his lips, squirming as he pleasured her. Impatiently, she grabbed at her skirt, pulling up the yards of shimmering fabric, until Lorian felt her naked skin against his hardness. She slung one perfect leg over his hip, wrapping it around him, urging him closer.

He reached down, fumbling with the clasp of his slacks, with his briefs. Then they were down, out of the way, and he was inside her. Karyn groaned, a low, primal sound that Lorian felt as well as heard. She threw her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as she wrapped her other leg around him. But it wasn't enough. He had to go—

"Deeper," she panted softly against his cheek. "Deeper."

He hooked his arms under her legs, pinning her against the wall as he obeyed her. They were eye to eye now, moving in unison, the bond fanning their desire, burning brightly as they rose rapidly toward release. Karyn's pleasure felt entirely different to Lorian from his own, and yet he found it just as enticing. They were as mirror images, complementing one another, their shared emotions fitting together as perfectly as their joined bodies.

"Faster," she pleaded. "Harder." There was an edge of need to her voice that sent a carnal jolt through him. As he took her hips more firmly and increased his pace, she held on tightly to him, shuddering with her mounting pleasure, her breasts pressed against his satin-clad chest. He felt the friction of her erect nipples against his body, and from inside hers, simultaneously.

Then, all at once, she crested and exploded into orgasm, her whimpers becoming cries of rapture. As she bucked uncontrollably in his arms, he followed her with a groan of sweet release, his pleasure so intense that the room spun around him, leaving him blind to all but her essence, her soul, her love echoing through the bond.

Afterward, they collapsed against the wall, clinging to each other, still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure. Less than two minutes had passed since their lips had first touched.

"What the hell was that?" Karyn managed at last.

Lorian took in a deep lungful of air, trying to calm his breathing. "Evidently it was the mating bond manifesting itself."

Her mouth fell open. "Wow."

He thought her brevity of words most eloquent, somehow. "Indeed."

She began to giggle uncontrollably, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Lorian found her quite adorable. He laughed softly himself as he nuzzled her cheek.

"Oh my God!" she said into his throat. "Can you imagine that happening with everybody still here?"

Lorian mentally thanked his father for warning them to wait. "I would rather not imagine it, if you don't mind."

Karyn looked down at her skirt, still bunched up around her waist. "The priceless heirloom clothes didn't get in our way after all."

"It is likely they will, and quite soon, if we do not divest ourselves of them," Lorian remarked.

Karyn gave him a sultry smile. "I like the sound of that." She unwrapped her legs from his waist, and he set her down. "Very well, Mr. Tucker," she said. "Let's get naked."

Lorian felt a swell of reawakening desire at her words. "As you wish, Mrs. Tucker." Together, they headed for the bedroom.

-tbc-


	15. Epilogue

**...Touching and Touched **

Rating: PG-13, for language

Disclaimer: _Star Trek: Enterprise_ is the property of Paramount Pictures, Inc. All original material herein is the property of its author.

A/N: Thanks again to pookha for character background ideas.

Note: /Dialogue between slash marks/ is inner-thought bond-speak.

* * *

Part 15: _Epilogue_

Trip had arranged for a room for his parents at a five-star hotel a stone's throw from Starfleet. T'Pol was getting Chuck and Catherine settled when Trip tried to tip the starstruck bellboy, but the kid would have none of it. He had recognized the _Enterprise_ officers at once, from articles he'd collected about the war. Chuck and Catherine peeked out from the hallway as the boy stammered out noises of admiration—it was hard to understand him, he was talking so fast—and told Trip he wanted to join Starfleet when he was old enough. Then he worked up the courage to ask for a handshake, which Trip gladly gave him. The kid departed in a deliriously happy fog, looking as if he'd never wash that hand again. For Catherine and Chuck, it was a perspective of their son that they'd seldom seen since the war's end, and a memory they would treasure.

The posh surroundings were suitably impressive. "This is a far cry from the place we stayed in back when you were in Starfleet Training," Chuck told Trip with an approving nod.

Trip shrugged modestly. "Being a war hero isn't _all_ annoying photo ops and sanitized interviews." He thought of the bellboy, and smiled to himself. _No sir, it's a lot more than that._

"Any chance we'll get to see you tomorrow?" Catherine asked.

"Unlikely," T'Pol replied. "Admiral Gardner expects the Board of Inquiry to be in session for the entire day."

"What exactly is this inquisition about?" Chuck asked.

A sudden, ghastly thought occurred to Catherine. "They're not making you ask permission to get married, are they?"

"Naw, nothing like that," Trip said with a smile. "They're inquiring as to our ability to remain sufficiently objective enough to continue serving together aboard _Enterprise_, if and when we _do_ get married."

"Ability to remain objective...?" Chuck looked blankly from Trip to T'Pol. "They do realize T'Pol is Vulcan, don't they?"

Trip and Catherine burst into laughter together, as Chuck and T'Pol traded matching looks of bemusement. T'Pol turned to Trip, arching one graceful, upswept eyebrow. "Your father makes an eloquent point."

Catherine grinned. "Maybe he should testify at that inquiry tomorrow."

"I have a better idea," Chuck said. "Why don't you cut through all the bullshit and red tape, and tell 'em you're already married?"

Trip did a double-take. T'Pol's eyebrows rose faintly, which Catherine took to be the Vulcan version of stark surprise.

"I mean, I know it hasn't been for very long," Chuck went on. "But you've both been on the same ship, and you haven't blown it up yet."

"Say that again," Trip said quietly.

Chuck blinked. "What? That you haven't blown up the ship?"

Trip was smiling now, a tiny, charmed smile that reminded Catherine of Lorian. "The part about T'Pol and me already being married."

Chuck shrugged, looking a little self-conscious. "Once those Starfleet stiff-necks get used to the idea, they'll be all right."

Catherine hung back, holding her tongue, but she thought she might just burst from pride.

Trip caught his mother's eye and winked at her as he slung an arm affectionately around Chuck's shoulders. "Thanks, Dad. We might just do that."

* * *

When Trip and T'Pol emerged from the hotel, they found Archer leaning against the ground car, pensively studying the ocean. Wordlessly, the pair took up matching positions on either side of him. The moon was high in the sky, turning the ocean silver.

"Penny for your thoughts, Cap'n," Trip said, as they all watched the play of moonlight on water.

"No secrets..." Archer murmured. "That's what Soval said about the bonding meld." Trip and T'Pol were both struck by the open vulnerability on his face. "What does it feel like?" he asked. "To have no secrets between you?"

Trip nudged T'Pol through the bond, and received an answering nod from her. She sensed it too: a breakthrough in the offing. After all these months of silence and private suffering, was the captain finally ready to cleanse his soul?

"I thought at first that it might make me feel kinda naked, y'know?" Trip told him. "But I found out that it was more like a feeling of being set free."

"The truth and trust between us has strengthened us," T'Pol added.

"To have someone you know so well, whom you trust so much..." Archer's eyes filled with a sad, quiet longing. "Someone to eat the sins of the sin-eater..."

Trip ached for his friend. T'Pol spoke for both of them. "You have us, Captain."

Archer smiled briefly, warmly, in gratitude. A moment later, he was somber once more. "I was hoping that our mission back to the Expanse would give me the chance to work through some things..." He shrugged faintly, summoning up a touch of wryness. "So much for that plan."

"Anything we can do?" Trip asked casually.

Archer hesitated, clearly debating with himself. Finally he ventured, "I know it's been a long day..."

"I'm still wired," Trip responded quickly. "After that wedding, and the reception, and now the bonding ceremony— there's no way I'm going to sleep for a while."

"Nor I, Captain," T'Pol said smoothly. "I found the day's events most energizing."

Archer looked relieved. "I feel the same way." He sounded hopeful as he pressed on. "Would you two like to go somewhere and...maybe just...talk?"

As Trip smiled and nodded, he heard T'Pol's soft, grateful sigh in his mind... /At last./

* * *

When Nick Masaro arrived at Orpheus Mining Colony on the Moon, he found the mood among the Primers to be one of controlled fury. It was bad enough that highly placed Vulcan officials had been found responsible for the embassy bombing, but the news that Starfleet was now in talks with the alleged "reformed" government about a formal alliance with Earth—it boggled the mind.

At least the Primers were pleased that the demonstrations at the Memorial had gone well—better than expected, in fact. The Terra Prime-generated leak about the Vulcan Security Minister being arrested for the attack had attracted the press like bees to honey. Support for the Vulcans had plunged within a day, and spontaneous alien hate crimes had spiked impressively. Talk shows were abuzz with renewed discussion about preservation of the purity of the human race. And, to put it bluntly, the bombing had been very good for Terra Prime. The organization's ranks had enjoyed a healthy resurgence following the attack, with more petitioners every day.

As Nick was ushered into John Frederick Paxton's office by his quiet but formidable assistant Josiah, Paxton was studying a video on a screen behind his spacious desk. Nick recognized it at once: Memorial Hall at Starfleet—the tribute to the victims of the embassy bombing. One of the press feeds, most likely.

"Good work, Nick," Paxton said in that velvet baritone of his, without taking his eyes from the screen. "Thanks to the information you provided us, Starfleet's dark secret about the identity of those Vulcan cowards who planted the bomb is now common knowledge throughout the system. The pro-humanity movement has been given a significant boost."

Nick felt a cold shock pass through his system at Paxton's words. _Like someone walked on your grave_, his mother would say. The idea that he could be single-handedly responsible for stirring up so much hatred...yesterday it would have made him proud, but today he just felt queasy. He was suddenly, stunningly aware that he didn't _want_ to hate T'Pol or Vulcans or Starfleet anymore. He didn't want to be the reason that T'Pol was thrown off _Enterprise_ and Commander Tucker's career was ruined.

"I was just doing my part," he said quietly. _Enjoy the kudos while you can, Nick_, he thought miserably. After what he had to tell Paxton, he'd probably be branded a traitor to Terra Prime.

Paxton was scanning through crowd shots in Memorial Hall. He froze the frame, zooming in on the section of blue-uniformed personnel from _Enterprise_...over a few rows, to the crew of _Columbia_...closer in...and finally stopping on Captain Hernandez's XO. Commander Lorian.

Paxton pursed his lips as he studied the calm, intelligent face on the screen. "So that's the impure half-breed...Lorian." His normally dulcet voice soured at the name, making it sound distasteful, somehow. "I must admit, he doesn't look as satanic as those of his mother's race typically do. Must be the eyebrows. And those blue eyes—they give his face a deceptively pleasant countenance..." —his expression darkened with disdain— "...for a devil's spawn."

"I was wrong," Nick blurted. Paxton turned away from his contemplation of the viewscreen to regard him with mild curiosity. Nick pointed to the frozen image of Commander Lorian. "About him—about T'Pol. Maybe about everything, I don't know—"

"Slow down, son." Paxton rose, putting a hand on Nick's shoulder, comforting and supportive. "Take a breath and start from the beginning."

Nick let it all spill out in a rush, everything he'd learned over the past thirty-six hours. How Lorian had gotten _Columbia_ spaceworthy in a matter of weeks, after her human engineering crew had struggled for months without success. How the other alien hybrids, late of Lorian's crew, were already making their marks in Starfleet. Karyn Archer, part Ikaaran, was redefining the NX-class's navigational parameters with her extraordinary piloting skills. Neela Wallenda, a descendent of Phlox, was presenting compelling new data on genetic engineering to Starfleet Medical. Xirsus, part Zayyan, was working on adapting _E__2__'s_ tractor-beam technology for implementation aboard _Enterprise_ and _Columbia_.

Then Nick pulled out his data module of Commander Tucker's battle simulations of Azati Prime and explained what he had used the program to do. "I ran the sim five times—I used every officer who'd had command training," he said, fidgeting restlessly with the module. "T'Pol did as well as Captain Archer would have, if he'd been in command. Her performance was no worse—actually, it was better—than the program's Virtual Captain, its version of the ideal starship commander. And Angie died every time I ran the sim. Don't you see? She didn't die because T'Pol was Vulcan. She would've died no matter what."

Paxton's face was unreadable. Nick was growing uneasy, but he'd come this far; he had to finish what he'd started. "Ever since I saw this, I've been thinking...if T'Pol isn't incompetent, if her son is a fine engineer like his father...then maybe creating a hybrid creature isn't going to prove your point after all. I mean, what if it isn't what you expect? What if it isn't a monster?"

"It IS!" Paxton thundered. Nick was startled into silence. He froze, his heart hammering, as Paxton glared dangerously at him. Then, as suddenly as the outburst had happened, it was over. Paxton was once more the quiet, reserved man Nick had always known him to be. Until now.

"Nick." Paxton took the young man's shoulders firmly. Nick summoned all the self-control he had in order not to flinch. "Let's set aside, for the moment, hoary old truisms such as 'hindsight is always 20/20,' and facts such as the notorious inability of computers to mimic or predict a human being's psyche, especially in crisis." Paxton took the data module from Nick's hand and studied it thoughtfully. "How do you know that Tucker didn't doctor his program to show the Vulcan woman what she _wanted_ to see, to ease her guilt and give her false peace? He is in her thrall, after all."

The idea had never occurred to Nick. He shook his head, with a tentative smile of disbelief. "No...Commander Tucker wouldn't do that. He's not that kind of man. He wouldn't lie."

Paxton regarded him with an indulgent, almost pitying look. "A man in love will do anything to protect the one he loves. He will lie, cheat, betray any person, violate any principle." He leaned closer, a hint of suggestiveness to his voice. "You told me yourself that he's been acting more...familiar with her lately, even though she's married to another man now."

Nick's head was swimming, and his stomach was tied in knots. Whom should he believe? He was more confused than ever. It was true that Tucker's behavior with T'Pol on the journey home from Vulcan had been markedly different. Though Nick had still not seen them touch each other, they exhibited the comfortable closeness of loving spouses. It made sense to assume they were carrying on a torrid affair behind closed doors, ignoring both T'Pol's husband and Tucker's moral code. But Nick's gut kept nagging him that he was right about Tucker's integrity, T'Pol's competence, Lorian's goodness...and the inevitability of Angie's death.

He felt the room closing in around him; he could hardly breathe. He had to get out of here. Thankfully, his survival instincts kicked in. His face relaxed, and he nodded to Paxton. "You're right, of course." He even managed a convincing, admiring smile. "You're always right, Mr. Paxton."

He was relieved to see Paxton's hard expression soften as he chuckled. "No, son. I've just been around long enough to have a little better idea of the way people think." He put an arm around Nick, strolling with him toward the door of the office. "Now you go on back home. Spend some time with your parents. We'll handle things from here."

"And when _Enterprise_ leaves for the Barrens?" Nick asked.

"Watch, listen, and report back to us, as always," Paxton instructed. "Your presence on _Enterprise_ has been invaluable, and will continue to be."

As he opened the door, Nick took Paxton's proffered hand. "Thanks for hearing me out, sir. I appreciate it."

After the boy left, Paxton called Josiah into his office. "I'm afraid young Mr. Masaro has fallen under Juliet's spell. Put him on the liability list."

"Unfortunate," Josiah acknowledged regretfully. "And his reports?"

"We'll have to treat them as untrustworthy unless they're corroborated by another of our sources." Paxton shrugged. "But it's probably a moot point. I expect his reports will suffer from a dearth of useful information from now on."

"Perhaps we should have him replaced," Josiah said. "He might talk."

Paxton mulled the possibility over for a moment, before shaking his head. "His confusion will ensure his silence for now. If he turns, his shame will continue to keep him silent, until such time as he can be...persuaded to remain cooperative with us. Such tender youth is easily cowed."

"Good enough." Josiah moved back to the doorway of the office. "Dr. Mercer has a progress report for you. And a new team member."

He beckoned, and Dr. Mercer entered, looking his usual nervous, preoccupied self. Paxton greeted the geneticist eagerly; he'd been waiting for this visit all day. "What news, Doctor?"

"The latest numbers are promising," Mercer replied, with characteristic caution. "The accelerated gestation you insisted on has resulted in some anomalous readings regarding her auto-immune response; we're keeping an eye on that. Otherwise, she—" At Paxton's warning glance, Mercer quickly corrected himself. "_It_ appears about a week away from viability."

"A week?" Paxton nodded coolly, but inwardly he was thrilled. He would be able to get started on experiments with the creature's blood months sooner than expected—and just in time. His body was starting to show signs of resistance to the Rigellian gene therapy; he'd been forced to increase the frequency of his injections three times over the last several months. It was imperative that he find an alternative effective treatment for the Taggart's Syndrome, and quickly. "Good work, Doctor."

"To that end," Mercer continued, "I've brought in someone from one of our cells planetside for the hands-on supervision of the subject, once it has been released from the gestation chamber." He handed Paxton a padd. "She was working at a NICU on the Central Coast."

Paxton scanned the employment history and background data on the padd. A med tech and nurse's aide, with a background in bio-engineering...passed up for several promising research positions in favor of aliens, either Vulcan or Denobulan. Excellent. "She's been screened?"

"Perfect in every way," Josiah confirmed.

"Very good. Bring her in."

Mercer ushered in a blond woman in her late thirties, with gentle, expressive blue eyes. Paxton took her hand, giving her a benevolent smile. "Welcome to the Terra Prime family, Miss Khouri."

-fin-


End file.
